Where There is Love
by CrysWimmer
Summary: (BG 2003) Pure Fluff - COMPLETE! - The road to love is rocky for any couple, but with personalities as strong as Lee and Kara, issues are more complicated. No plot - at all - Enjoy!
1. The Dream

Where there is Love

By Crystal Wimmer

_ _

Lee turned towards Kara and faced her, really faced her. His body was warring with his mind to hurry this moment, but he was managing — just barely — to keep himself in control. "I've waited a long time for this," he told her softly.

Brown eyes stared into his as she smiled. It wasn't the kind of smile he would have expected from her, but he was glad to see it. "Me, too," she said very softly.

Gently he lowered his lips to hers, giving her plenty of time to retreat if she needed to. She didn't. She wrapped her arms around him and did everything but crawl up on him to get closer. He felt an enormous amount of relief in just knowing that the feeling — the need — was mutual. The kiss became hotter, and wetter, until he didn't really know where he stopped and she started. 

Her hands were everywhere, and he didn't mind. His own were doing some traveling as well, over soft breasts, firm buttocks, and strong legs. She was amazing from head to toe. He had always admired her body, muscular rather than skinny, but feeling it beneath him was something even more incredible. 

She seemed just as fascinated with his body, her hands were tracing over familiar pathways and new ones as well. Each touch made him ache more, reminding parts of his anatomy that there was more than one purpose in life, even if it had been a damned long time. The touches made him crazy, and yet he wanted more of them. He wanted all of them.

Lee never knew exactly how they made it to his bed. Clothes seemed to fall away as her body heated beneath his, moving constantly, always questing to get closer. He couldn't seem to get them close enough. Skin rubbed against bare skin as he felt the heat between them increase. He wanted to rush forward, to consummate this, but he had his reservations. He hated himself for the doubts, but he had to be certain that she was with him.

"Kara, are you sure?" he asked softly in between kisses. This would change things. He knew there would be no going back from it. He had to give her the choice. Pulling away he looked down into her eyes, soft and sleepy from his kisses.

"What do you think?" she asked with a pure Kara grin. It reassured him as nothing else could. Regardless of what had come before or would come after, this was Kara and she was his.

He leaned down once more, kissing her again despite the smile that he couldn't quite shake. She was smiling too. This was going to happen. Finally, after years of loving her and wanting her, he was finally going to be able to show her.

The voice took him totally by surprise. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Lee's head snapped up and he met the accusing eyes of his brother. Zak's face was furious as he stood in the open doorway, and the bottom dropped out of Lee's world.

He came abruptly awake, the warm weight of Kara in his arms his only anchor in a spinning world. The echo of the dream had him wanting to shove her away as the guilt washed over him, but he couldn't help but hold on to her. It had felt so very real. His brother's eyes had been so hurt and miserable, even more than angry. After nearly five years, he could still remember that look, although it had previously only been directed at him for beating Zak in a game or outscoring him on a test.

He took a deep slow breath to calm himself, and then another. He didn't want to wake Kara. He didn't want to explain it. He didn't know if she'd understand or not, but he wasn't taking the risk. Their relationship was still too fragile and too precious to lose. Still, he was shaking so badly that he couldn't guarantee that she could sleep through it. Gently he eased himself from behind her, sitting up on his side of the bed and placing his head in his hands.

He had no clue what he was going to do. He didn't know what he should do, or what was right. Zak was dead, and had been nearly five years. Lee knew that — he knew it — and yet those eyes had been so real to him. He couldn't get his expression out of his mind. He had always done his best to help his brother out, knowing that for some reason Zak admired him. He guessed it was the big-brother thing, so he had taken it as a responsibility. He had done his best never to let Zak down, just to avoid the disappointed look that the younger man could fire his way. It had a way of making him feel two feet tall.

The arm around his waist startled him. He had thought she was sleeping. "Are you okay?" she asked softly. Her voice was deep, gravelly, and sleepy. She had scooted over to his side of the bed, probably seeking heat more than anything else. Suddenly the room felt damned cold.

He wanted nothing more than to lay back down next to her and lose himself in her warmth for just a while. He usually slept so well in her arms, both comfortable and content. But the dream was too fresh. "I'm fine," he answered in a shaky voice. Then, deciding to stay as close to the truth as he could, he added, "It was just a dream."

"What about?" she asked as she pulled herself closer to him and laid her head on his lap. His body had its typical reaction to her closeness, and the guilt washed over him once more.

"I don't remember," he lied. To hell with honesty; he couldn't do this now.

"Come back to bed," she muttered, her voice telling him that she wasn't really quite awake. He didn't know if that made him feel better or worse. There was a big part of him that wanted to confide in her and seek the comfort he really knew she could give. Another part was afraid that the mere mention of Zak's name would send her in a down-spiral of her own guilt and pain. Finally he decided that neither reaction was something he could cope with in his present mood. She wouldn't likely remember this in the morning, and that was for the best. 

"I will," he promised. "I'm going to get a drink of water first."

"Mmm hmm," she agreed, putting her head back on his pillow and curling around herself for warmth. Blond hair peeked out from the cocoon she made of her blanket as she tried to stay warm. It didn't escape him that she had curled up in his space, her head on his pillow. He tended to do the same thing when she was the first out of bed. He would have never believed her to be a cuddler when sleeping, but then he wouldn't have believed it of himself either. It amazed him what they could bring out in one another.

He stood up slowly, deliberately walked across the dark room and into the tiny bathroom to find a glass by feel. He filled it, and drank the full glass in one long gulp. It didn't help. His groin was still burning from Kara's innocent actions, and his mind was still whirling from the dream and all the insecurities it had brought to mind.

There was guilt as well, raw and painful. She wasn't his. She was Zak's. She always had been. A part of him didn't know what he had been thinking, becoming involved with her. In an attempt to distance himself from the troubling thoughts, he drank another glass of water, then left the glass on the sink to walk back into his room. He seated himself on the edge of the desk, able to see only her outline at this distance by the glowing light of the clock next to the bed. She was sleeping again, soft and sweet. Lords he loved her. He just didn't have a clue what the hell he was going to do about it.

He knew what he wanted to do. He had known that for almost a year. But Kara had been through too much in the years since the war began, and he knew she had needed time to find herself again. She had told him as much at one point, and he had been more than willing to wait. Honestly, he still was, but gradually there had been less of a need.

A year ago, he had asked Kara to move in with him. Well, if not asked, at least offered her the option. Initially she had refused, as much for propriety's sake as for her own, but gradually her practical side had shown through. One morning six months ago she had shown up long before his alarm had gone off. She had been shivering and sick of it, or so she'd told him at the door. Without any more consent than that, she had crossed the room and crawled into his bed. He could either kick her out or join her. There hadn't been much of a battle in his mind at that point. He had been cold, too.

They were always cold. It was a simple fact of life that heat required fuel, and fuel was always at a premium in the fleet. Even when it was plentiful, lessons of the past had forced them into a constant mode of conservation. Temperatures were still kept uncomfortably chilly on the ship whether it was day or night. Crewman slept in their uniforms and argued over blankets, but they managed in the cooler conditions. It wasn't unhealthy, just uncomfortable. Water was tepid at best, and the air itself was the same. Being cold became a way of life.

There were really only two times of the day that Lee felt truly warm. The first was waking up with Kara next to him. It was amazing how much heat two bodies could generate with adequate covers. Even more pleasant was that the less clothing they wore, the warmer they became, regardless of the temptation it imposed. It was a converse relationship that was wreaking hell on his good intentions, but he couldn't regret it. When he woke up with her wrapped around him, he felt warm and sleepy and content. It was something rare enough that he treasured it. 

The second time of day that he felt warm was during their morning run. Kara set a grueling pace some mornings, but even when she was slacking he kept warm. Their morning running path involved dodging bodies, climbing and descending stairs, and stretching out their legs as much as possible on the few long corridors that the Galactica possessed. He loved the morning tradition as much as the company. She was undemanding of conversation — usually too busy concentrating on whatever was on her mind — and more than willing to keep her own silence as well. He took the time to mentally organize his day, wake up thoroughly, and just enjoy the view when she led the run. Kara wasn't skinny despite her daily mileage, but instead she had curves in all the right places. And she had a damn fine ass. A man would have to be dead not to appreciate that.

Lee wasn't dead; not by a long shot. And more than one morning he had actually appreciated the chilly water temperature as he got ready for duty. It wasn't that he was a pervert, or that all he thought about was sex, but five years of celibacy wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Especially not when he was spending the nights with her in his arms — something he would never trade — and his own body was finally waking up from a basic survival shutdown that had occurred at the beginning of the war.

Lee yawned quietly as he slid off the corner of the desk and went back into the bathroom to relieve himself. That task over, he grabbed his running shorts from his locker and slipped them on quietly. He wasn't going to get any more sleep tonight, and he was beginning to get chilled again. He wasn't ready to lie down, so he'd take care of the temperature issue in another reliable way.

Once outside the hatch, he slipped on the running shoes he'd grabbed from next to the door. After tying the laces in double knots, he began a gentle jog to warm himself up. Running was the perfect way to get his mind working, and right now that seemed like a good idea. He certainly wasn't thinking clearly enough for his own comfort while sitting in his room.

Running hadn't always been his thing. That was one more thing that Kara had shared with him over the years. He had started running with her at the academy, after a couple of women had been assaulted in the early morning darkness of the campus quad. It had just seemed the friendly thing to do. He hadn't ever bothered with getting up early and following her around their own neighborhood in high school, but the environment didn't seem as safe at the academy, and trying to convince her of that was like ordering her to run alone. She would do it just to spite him.

So he had started getting up with her then, and she had run him ragged. After a few weeks it wasn't as difficult, and he managed to develop a liking for it. He had never developed the addiction that she seemed to have — he was perfectly happy to miss a day now and again — but there were times that it had its uses. Now was one of them.

Lee got his speed up to a pace in between a jog and a full out run. He wasn't racing, or trying to keep up with Kara, but it was enough to keep him warm and occupy his mind. More importantly, the dimmed lights of the Galactica's main passageways helped to chase away the last remnants of the nightmare.

He was being ridiculous. Zak wasn't hovering anywhere close watching him with Kara, even if there had been anything questionable to watch. If anything, Zak would probably be happy that both his brother and girlfriend had managed to keep themselves together following the desolation that the war had brought. He wasn't a bitter man, nor one that held a grudge. In fact, Zak would probably be the last person to hold anything against anyone. More likely, he would have made a stupid joke and moved on from there.

That was Zak. Three years younger than Lee, there had been times it had felt more like ten. Zak wasn't the typical commander's kid, and he hadn't been any more responsible than he absolutely had to be. He had been known for sleeping in, missing tests, and charming his way out of trouble with almost anyone. It wasn't that he had been a bad kid — in fact, it was far from that. He wasn't the type to get others in trouble, or to deny responsibility if he were at fault for something. He had just been a little less intense than Lee had been, or even Kara for that matter. He had been relaxed about life, and he had enjoyed it. If there was one thing Lee didn't regret about losing Zak, it was that he had been lost while he was still fairly innocent about the world in general.

And yet, in a lot of ways he'd been more advanced than Lee was. He had been far more socially active than Lee at his age. Rather than studying or preparing something for a class, he was the one who had attended the parties and had made the connections that would have served him well later in life. He was also the one who'd had the sense to ask Kara out, although Lee didn't think he would have even considered it back then. In fact, he knew he wouldn't have, because his own father had made the suggestion more than once.

Dating Kara was something that hadn't even appealed to him back then. She had been a friend — and a good one — but she was more like a sister than a real girl. He'd actually been surprised when she and Zak had started dating. Granted, he'd been pretty busy with trying to get his grades high enough and his extra-curricular activities varied enough to be a decent candidate for the academy. Back then, his greatest fear had been that he wouldn't make it in. Kara, on the other hand, had seemed to take to it all so easily. She had the grades without even working for them, and she never cared to stay after school. He had been too preoccupied with his own life to notice where she was hanging out.

He'd been in for the shock of his life when he walked into his and Zak's shared bedroom to find the two of them casually necking on the bed. They hadn't really been doing anything — some kissing perhaps, but nothing more. Yet Lee had felt his stomach drop as he realized that he'd missed something along the way. Kara had been about eighteen then, and just getting ready to leave with him for the academy. Zak had been only fifteen. Lee supposed that was what had shocked him the most. At fifteen, Lee hadn't even begun to think of girls beyond who was best at math or who might help him out with psych.

Once the initial shock had passed, the two of them hadn't bothered him. Well, the relationship hadn't bothered him. Coming back to the room after a long day to find Kara in a clinch with Zak rather than studying for the next day's tests had grated on his nerves, especially when he knew she would match his scores point for point. Also having Zak show up with a big smile that promptly drooped when he realized Kara wasn't there, well that had been a blow to his ego. As tired as being a big brother had made him, he had always loved the mild adoration that Zak threw his way. It was hard not to be the center of his world anymore.

Sharing a room with Kara had been his father's idea — a way to give them both a familiar roommate and reduce the risk of getting stuck with a jerk — but it had turned out to be a good one. He and Kara had been surprisingly compatible for two such different personalities. She got him to relax a bit — not a small task — and he got her to buckle down a little on her studies. The problem was that where he had to work his ass off to stay at the top of the class, Kara had the mathematical mind to do it without even thinking, much less concentrating. It was what had made her so lazy in the primary grades.

Lee rounded the passageway that went past CIC and his father's quarters, then turned to head back down a stairway to the lower level. He had to concentrate a little on the stairs, but otherwise it didn't bother him. He had enough speed built up that he didn't need to slow, and his breathing was deep and regular. For Kara, this would have been a light workout. For him, it was comfortable.

He tried to remember when he had started seeing Kara as a woman. He supposed it had been shortly after she and Zak had announced their engagement. He and Kara had both been teaching by then, although she was teaching flight itself whereas he was doing a stint as math instructor. He hadn't liked it, but he had been rather good at it. Well, that and he had liked the respect that the students gave him. He had liked to lead, even then. He hadn't known how important those leadership skills would be to his future.

She and Zak had been an item for more than three years, and the relationship had gone well past anything that Lee had thought possible. First of all, he hadn't known Zak could maintain an attention span for anything for that length of time, and secondly because he really thought Kara would want to go out with guys other than his little brother. It wasn't that he had anything against Zak, either. He was a good kid. But that was just it: Zak was a kid. He was flighty and careless and endlessly sweet, but still mostly a kid at heart. Kara, by contrast, was just about the most mature person he'd ever met. She might joke around or laugh stuff off, but it wasn't for lack of consideration. She'd had a rough start in life, and knew more about being an adult when she was five than some people ever learned. He loved his brother, yes, but he hadn't understood what she could see in him.

Knowing her now, he could peg the appeal. Kara was a born cynic, and she had needed something fresh and honest in her life. That was Zak to a tee. He might have been a pain in the ass on occasion, but when you were really down he was the one person who knew just the right thing to say, or just the right thing to do. He'd never met anyone he couldn't get along with. Back then, Lee hadn't even realized that Kara needed that kind of support.

He knew it now. Kara wasn't the kid he had grown up with any longer. She was a woman, lovely and sweet and stubborn as they came. She could hold her own in an argument, and he firmly believed she could take him out with a single punch if she were so inclined. He supposed he should be intimidated by that kind of hold, but he wasn't. He was challenged, and refreshed, and occasionally irritated as hell. They weren't always the quietest roommates, but they had a kind of balance that he needed. And that really frightened him, because he had never liked needing anything from anyone.

Slowing from a run to a jog, and then a jog to a walk, Lee began his cool-down. He didn't want to get cold again, but neither did he want to be gasping for breath when he went back into the office. His watch told him that it was after five; he had been running for more than an hour. The only thing it had accomplished was to make him sweaty and tired. He didn't feel any clearer on anything than he had when he'd started.

Easing the hatch open, he slipped in to see that the bed was empty. It didn't surprise him. Kara wasn't one to sleep late, and she was on first watch today. He was too, for that matter. He sat down on the edge of the bed, doing his best not to sweat all over everything. He rather wished he'd grabbed a towel before leafing and left it on the desk so that he had a way to dry off. He could go into the bathroom of course — Kara wouldn't likely mind it, and it wasn't as though they hadn't run into one another that way before — but it wasn't something he was ready to deal with this morning.

So he sat, and despite his best efforts to the contrary he got cold. If he hadn't been so damn sweaty he would have put something on, but he hated to overuse the laundry when it had been his own poor planning. If he'd come back half an hour sooner, he would have been showered, dressed, and out before Kara woke up.

When he heard the water stop, he had to brace himself for what was coming next. It happened most mornings, but he hadn't gotten used to the rush of blood that accompanied Kara's emergence from the shower in no more than a towel. He should be used to it, he thought, but he wasn't. If anything, the sensation got stronger rather than going away. It was uncomfortable enough that he almost wished he could return to the days of thinking of her as his little brother. Almost. 

But not quite.

She didn't disappoint. Kara stepped through the open doorway to the small bathroom and greeted him with a semi-sleepy smile. She had one towel around her body, everything hidden that should be, and another in her hands to scrub her hair dry. "Morning," she said brightly. "You left without me."

He shrugged one shoulder, caught between feeling guilty and aroused. It was a lousy place to get caught. "I couldn't sleep," he explained. "And I didn't want to wake you up."

She nodded as though she understood and walked towards her side of the bed where her shorts and tank tops were laid out. He knew what was coming next, and while some days he looked forward to a little innocent gawking, today he wasn't sure he could survive it. Turning abruptly away, he took his unruly body to the shower and turned the spray on full blast, blessing the tepid water for its coolness and not even caring that he would be shivering in moments. Water filtration wasn't an issue as the system they used required essentially no active power drain. It worked on the same system that provided the Galactica's gravity, pure water pressure and simple plumming. They lost a certain amount of fluid to body waste and evaporation, but the vast majority was recycled with little effort on their part. Showers might be cold, but any reduced length was up to the person taking them.

Lee stayed in the shower just a few minutes longer than he usually would, making sure that he was sufficiently chilled to make it to his room, and his uniform, without anything embarrassing occurring. He didn't have a clue why it should bother him that Kara might know she got to him. He'd made his feelings for her perfectly clear, and was even fairly sure they were reciprocated. But the simple fact that his body would show obvious evidence when hers did not was enough to keep him nervous about the situation. She had to have noticed — it was nearly a constant state around her anymore — but gratefully she hadn't said anything. Yet.

He had no clue how long this limbo could last. They were somewhere between friends and lovers, too far in either direction to completely abandon the other. Every day seemed to be uncharted ground, and yet he wasn't even sure he would go back if he could. Somewhere in the last couple of years, he had fallen in love not with the girl next door, but with the woman right in his own room. Some days it was the most wonderful feeling in the world. Other days it felt like this, and he couldn't think of anything he wanted to get further away from. If he screwed this up, he lost everything: friend, lover, and the last link to his brother that remained.

That was the hell of it. In his mind, for the last ten years, Zak and Kara had been almost one. Now every time he looked at her, the image of Zak was still there, and yet the link was fading. He didn't always think of Zak when he looked at Kara. Only part of the time. Maybe the reason that the dream was bothering him so damn much was because it didn't bother him; because he didn't really think that Zak would blame him or begrudge him, but would instead want both of them to be happy. He couldn't blame his doubts and reservations on a ghost, however much easier it would be. The doubts and concerns were his own, and they weren't going away.

He knew exactly what he needed to do about all of it. He needed to sit down with Kara and talk this out with her. He needed to find out just exactly where he stood, and if they were any closer to the same footing than they had been six months before. Hell, he just needed to tell her how he felt and see if any of it at all was two-way. That was all. They just needed to talk about it.

But as Lee walked back into his room, his eyes falling on the two damp towels that Kara had tossed over his office chair, he realized that talking was the last damn thing in the world that he really wanted to do. He wanted to ignore it. He wanted to deny it. He wanted to flush it all down the frakking toilet because if he were wrong about it — any of it — then he didn't have the faintest clue how he was going to live through it.


	2. The Bad Day

Author's note: My most sincere thanks go out to Jennifer for her endless patience in reading and commenting on content, and to Lona for her blessed nitpicking in line-edits.

Chapter 2

Kara Thrace loved to work. She really did. Okay, so maybe she didn't. But she did love to fly, and when that was her daily assignment she couldn't have been happier. Unfortunately, on a ship with ninety-three pilots and thirty-four Vipers, she wasn't on the roster nearly as often as she would have liked.

Today was one of those annoying days where she was assigned to repairs and general maintenance with her flight chief. Frankly, although they had replaced the vast majority of the hundred or so crewmen that had been lost in the initial battles of the war, keeping up with the constant maintenance of their spacecraft continued to be an issue. There were no more spare parts, except for those they made. There were no more new spacecraft, because all had been used and abused for more than two and a half years. And there were no more name plaques that designated a craft to a particular pilot. It was share and share alike in both squadrons. So today was Kara's day to work on the birds and do her fair share to keep them all in the air. She was good at it. She was experienced at it. But it still wasn't her favorite thing to do.

The day in general hadn't gone the way she would have liked. She had started it out by waking up cold and alone in a bed she preferred to share. It wasn't completely irregular for her to wake up alone; she and Lee both took odd shifts on occasion, although not as often as some of the lower ranking pilots. It wasn't even irregular for dreams to force one or the other of them onto the deck before they would normally want to open their eyes. Even after two years, nightmares and sleep disturbances were common in their post-apocalyptic existence. But there had been something just not right this morning, and she couldn't put her finger on it.

The odd mornings were becoming decidedly more frequent of late, which both annoyed and puzzled Kara. Some of it she understood — the dreams and work shifts — but some of it left her concerned. Something was on Lee's mind lately, and he wasn't inclined to share. That bugged her.

She and Lee had known one another since childhood, and had lived together off and on for most of their lives. She had been his roommate in War College and the Flight Academy, so she was pretty familiar with his rhythms and routines. And she had been sleeping in the same bed with him for nearly the last six months, most often sharing their daytime hours as well. It was an essentially platonic arrangement, although both of them seemed to have feelings that were a little more than friendship. Or at least, she hoped they both had them, because she knew that she did and that Lee had at one point.

But lately it was so hard to know. To begin with, their shifts seemed to coincide less than they used to. As Lee was the one making the schedules, she had to think that it was deliberate. On the other hand, he might just be rotating them out of a desire for fairness within the squadrons. He had a reputation for being almost painfully equitable in managing the workload, so he might just be staying above reproach. Somehow, she thought it was more than that.

Sliding herself further up under the Viper, Kara reached up to remove the corroded tubing that was causing a leak in coolant. She didn't know what Tyrol was making his coolant from these days, but it went through the silicon tubes faster than they could replace them. Still, it seemed to be doing the job, and that was the name of the game. If it meant constant replacement and recycle of their coolant lines, then that was just what they had to do. It wasn't as though they had no time to do it in.

Time was something that there was more than enough of when you were wandering through space. And regardless of the grand speech William Adama had made a more than two years back, it really seemed like wandering to her. After all, if they knew where the hell they were going, they would just jump there and get it done and over. Instead, they had been managing on nerve and desperation for almost two and a half years, and to her that constituted a distinct lack of a master plan. It wasn't something she had just figured out, but it was definitely something that wasn't discussed. She would never call the Commander on it, though. Aside from respecting him more than anyone else she knew, she didn't want to be confirmed right. A little hope was just about all they had.

Well, that and some friendships that she wouldn't have ever believed could mean so much to her. Kara had never been one to connect too tightly to those around her. After losing her parents as a child, and then losing her fiancé to an accident, getting close was the last thing she wanted. Getting close meant losing people, and that was something she could do without.

But three years ago she had lost everyone, close or not, and she'd come to realize since then that you had to have someone to hold on to, otherwise it just wasn't worth the effort to wake up in the mornings. So she'd let herself care a bit, and maybe show it more than she had before, and somewhere along the way she'd made some pretty good friends. Even so, she had suffered a bit of loss using that philosophy. Their journey had not been a safe one.

But the majority of her attachments were still firm. Lee was one of the biggest. He was the last remnant of a childhood that the Adama family had made not only survivable, but enjoyable. Commander Adama was the other link to her past. She had known both of the Adama men since she'd been around five years old, give or take a few months. And since the beginning of the war, she'd made a few more friends. What had previously been acquaintances, like Sharon and Tyrol, were now solid friendships that she had come to rely on. She had also developed some attachments within her squadron. She considered Hawk a friend, and Evans too. If she needed them, she knew she could count on them, and she hoped they felt the same. She was also friends with some of the officers that worked CIC, although the opportunities were more limited as she hadn't shared quarters with them and didn't make it up to Command much herself. That was Lee's job. He could have it.

She had lost friends along the way as well. Roger Caplin had been a sweet kid, but not the best pilot they had. He had been killed when a support had given way and he'd been crushed by a falling Raptor. Fifty tons of metal did significant damage to anyone beneath it when there were not enough supports to keep it up. It had been the first post-war funeral she had attended, and it still surprised her that it had hurt so much more than the mass funeral at the beginning of the war. She supposed that had all blended into one huge tragedy, whereas losing Roger had been more personal. It had been an accident; that was all. It hadn't been an act of war, or even a pilot error. But knowing that hadn't made it any easier. Hell, Zak's death had been an accident, but at least then there had been someone to blame. Roger's death had just happened. There didn't seem to be any logic in it.

There had also been several suicides in the months immediately following their exile into space. Those funerals had been even harder to tolerate, because she could understand their need to escape. She'd had it lucky, surviving the war with many casual friendships and all that was left of what she considered her family. Others had been stranded alone, and had lost everything and everyone dear to them. She could understand how it would be easier to stop living than it would be to live through that.

But most of her post-war friendships were pretty much intact. They had only dealt with one Cylon run-in, and they had initiated that in an effort to get fuel. It had worked out okay in the end, and they had jumped far and fast from the contact. They hadn't encountered Cylons since, and that was fine with Kara. So far as she was concerned, the only good Cylon was a dead one.

Two more turns of the wrench secured the new silicon tube to the coolant system and ensured that this Viper had a chance to make it back from its next mission. That was one down. Tyrol had given her a list of nine Vipers that needed the same routine repair. He didn't believe in waiting until something broke down to fix it. Preventative maintenance was essential to keeping them all alive. If something broke down in the vacuum of space, towing it to a repair ship wasn't an easy task. Tyrol preferred for his ships to make it back on their own power. For the most part, they did.

Thankfully, they had only lost two Vipers since the beginning of the war, and that was due to leaving them behind on a Cylon occupied planet. It had been a calculated sacrifice that had saved the entire fleet, but it was something that Tyrol still grumbled about. The chief was more than a little possessive of his Vipers, both the Mark II models that he and his deck gang — most of whom were now gone — had restored, and the Mark VII models that had survived their downgrades and the first Cylon encounters. He had yet to resort to breaking down their Vipers into parts — not that the parts of two different spacecraft were at all interchangeable - but she could see it coming in the near future. There were a couple that he wouldn't allow to fly, and it was useless to have them sitting there beyond repair. Still, that was the Chief's decision, and not hers to make.

Kara wiped grease from her face and stood to go to her next assigned Viper. Great. No matter how careful she was, she always seemed to wind up slimed by the end of a repair session. She would need a shower, and that would be three for today. The first had been when she'd woken up, and had turned her from cold to frozen. The second had been after her run, and had taken away what little warmth she had been able to generate for herself. Now working had her almost warm, and she was going to have to get wet again. Lords, what she wouldn't give for a hot tub of water and an hour alone with it. Hell, fifteen minutes alone with it! She just wanted to get warm. It wasn't an uncommon complaint. They all understood the reasons for a sixty-degree temperature maximum, but that didn't mean they liked it. The entire crew felt as though they were slowly freezing to death. Okay, it was an exaggeration, but it still felt that way.

Rubbing arms that were still chilled even with the orange coverall's long sleeves, she made the short walk from one Viper to another, made sure that new tubing was in her pocket before sliding herself beneath the ship. She could have put her flight suit or a duty uniform under the coverall, but it was so damn hard to get them cleaned. Every time she had any uniform that really fit, she'd turn it into laundry and have it replaced with one that hung off her. There weren't many small uniforms around, and getting her hands on one had become a torture session. She hated baggy clothes. So her well-fitting uniforms were carefully locked in her squadron locker, and she was wearing one of the coveralls that made her both visible and decent on the flight deck. But not warm.

It took her even less time to replace this tube, but she wound up even messier. She wasn't quite fast enough to get from beneath the drops of coolant that hadn't been pulled from the system, so when one tube came out she got dribbled on. She really hoped this stuff wasn't toxic. She moved the new tube into position, tightened the fitting, and then did the same to the other end. One more down.

Unfortunately, while the work was moderately time-consuming, it didn't do a thing for her mind. She was still thinking at light speed, and those thoughts kept coming back to the same place. What the hell was wrong with Lee?

Okay, so they didn't have the most clearly defined relationship in history. Being unconventional wasn't something that bothered her. Half the squadron thought that her sleeping with Lee meant that she was doing a hell of a lot more than sleeping, and the other half didn't care one way or the other. She didn't see a point in setting any of them straight. Her friends knew the truth, and that was all that mattered. Still, there were days that she thought that if she were going to be persecuted for something, she might as well have the fun of committing the crime, or whatever it was.

But as easy as it would have been to fall for Lee, there were as many reasons to keep her hands to herself as not. The first issue was simple birth control: the Galactica didn't have any. Hence, most liaisons resulted in pregnancy at one point or another. It was something celebrated in a world where the survival of their race was seriously in question, but pregnant pilots didn't fly. And unfortunately that policy was extending to new mothers as well. Until babies were weaned, their mothers were grounded. Period. The remaining fleet didn't come with formula and bottles, so breast-feeding was essential for survival of their babies. It was a practical choice. 

But being grounded would kill her, and she knew it. She wasn't all that eager to be a mother in the first place. She had a few years left to make a final decision — she wasn't old by any stretch of the imagination — but the only guarantee of not becoming pregnant was abstinence. She was really good at that. She hadn't had sex with anyone in five years — not since her fumbling and often funny experiences with Zak. Hell, she wasn't even sure she quite remembered how. If some mornings she woke up with a warm and fuzzy feeling and Lee wrapped around her, and on those mornings she wondered if motherhood would really be so bad, then thankfully those particular mornings were few and far between.

Maybe Lee had the right idea getting out of the bed early. Maybe that was what his problem was. Lords, she wished she knew. 

The hell of it was that despite her best efforts, she wondered if she'd done something wrong. Months ago Lee had shown interest, albeit only a few kisses and perhaps a little groping. Every now and again she caught another sign that maybe his interest was still there: a glance or remark, or a joke that didn't fly, or a barely remembered hardness against her in the warmth of a shared bed. But he hadn't pressed matters, and she was too uncertain to push things herself, so they remained in a holding pattern that was slowly driving her insane.

There were too many reasons to stay apart. He was her best friend — first and foremost — and losing him would destroy her. She hated to admit that, but she was honest enough to do so. She'd faced the possibility enough times to know what it would do to her. Losing one Adama had been bad enough; losing Lee would be far too much. There was also the very real possibility of a breakup. After all, sexual relationships were far more tenuous than friendships, and she didn't want so much friction between them that they couldn't still be friends. Some people said that it was better to have loved and lost, but she wasn't one of them. She and Lee were volatile even in their friendship. They could argue with the best of them, and they often did just that. She wondered if they would have as many sparks in the bed as out of it, but she didn't want to put that curiosity to the test.

Her level of curiously was definitely increasing though. At one point, she wouldn't have thought of Lee as anything other than a brother. Back at the academy, when friends had admired him, she had honestly thought they were crazy. He'd been skinny back then, and hadn't had much of a build. Zak, on the other hand, had been into sports from a very early age, and he'd always been more muscular and well defined. Kara just hadn't seen the appeal. Granted, Lee had a gorgeous pair of blue eyes, but beyond that he was just average.

He wasn't average anymore. Age had gone a long way towards increasing his appeal. He was far better defined now; although he was muscular without being bulky. He wasn't all that tall, but he was taller than she was. He was definitely more athletic now, running daily and even lifting weights. And somewhere along the line, those average blue eyes had begun to fascinate her. It was almost embarrassing. She had been caught more than once by his intense gaze, and when he did it she had a damn hard time looking away. One of these days he wasn't going to drop it at a questioning look, either. She dreaded having to explain what she really didn't understand.

Initially she thought her attraction might even be lack of options. After all, the number of eligible dates had dropped from what had seemed infinite to a few dozen in the course of a day. Also, the Galactica's crew had seemed to split off into pairs with record speed. Kara thought it might have to do with a race to get the few family quarters that had been available, but it was also how some of the crew had dealt with the uncertainly of their future. When in doubt, procreate. She didn't have the same philosophy, but then she hadn't needed it. She'd had Lee to keep her busy and lately even keep her warm. She hadn't needed a lover, because she'd had a good friend. Now, she didn't know what she had beyond a hell of a lot of confusion.

Absently, Kara completed the maintenance on her assigned Vipers and then moved on to the next part of the list. Changing filtration units in Raptors took a little more concentration than switching out rotting tubes, but not by much. Her mind wasn't occupied any more by this task than the previous one, so her thoughts continued racing around her head.

The process continued — both the useless contemplation of her roommate and the routine maintenance tasks — until her shift was done. Seven hours of unthinking actions, interrupted only by two trips to the head and a quick trip to the dining hall to grab a bite of lunch. A bite was about all she wanted, too. Food shortages still required every other day to be synthetic nutrition, and this was an off day. She hated manufactured food. She would literally rather go hungry than eat the slop. So she took enough to get the growling out of her stomach, and left the rest for the next hapless pilot to eat.

There was a mild level of physical exhaustion after her shift, but it was very mild. She just hadn't done enough to really get fully tired. She would probably have to run again this evening just to get her mind to stop, but she didn't want to do that either. Running required fuel, and dinner wasn't likely to be any better than lunch. If she skipped the run, she could also skip the meal, or at least minimize it. It was a tempting proposition.

As it was, she slipped out of the filthy maintenance uniform and back into her duty uniform. A quick swipe with a washcloth and soap reduced the need for a true shower and made her presentable, and she headed back to Lee's office. It was one of Lee's privileges of being CAG — having his own office, bed, and bathroom — and one that she was truly enjoying. She tried not to feel guilty about it. After all, he had invited her to move in. She had just taken him up on the offer.

It hadn't been entirely selfish on her part. She did her best to be there for him when he needed her, and when things went wrong, he brought it to her. It didn't matter if it was a problem with the squadron or something little that was on his nerves; she was the one he came to with complaints or successes. She was the first one to know when he'd had a good day, or a bad one. She was also the one who had to take the fallout when he was too angry to deal with someone else, and yet had to blow or lose it completely. That hadn't happened as often lately, and she was grateful. It hadn't been the easiest part of being his friend.

Frankly, it was something she wasn't particularly good at. When he started yelling, she was just as likely to yell right back as to let him vent as he needed to. She supposed that helped in its way — he often got so annoyed by her that he forgot who he was pissed off at in the first place — but it didn't really help him solve the real problems. Her solution to problems was usually to beat on them, not to rationalize them. It honestly surprised her that Lee maintained his cool as well as he did.

Kara waved to a couple of friends as she opened the door to Lee's office and slipped inside. Okay, she had to admit that it was nice to have someplace — anyplace — private on the Galactica. There might not be a lock, but there was an understanding among those aboard that closed doors were to be knocked on before opening, and belongings were to be left alone. It was a pure test of the honor system, and for some reason it was working. 

Towards the end of the day, Kara found herself lying on Lee's bed and waiting. She wasn't even sure what she was waiting for. She wished that she knew. There were a dozen things she could be doing to fill her time. There was always a card game going on in the ready room, but she wasn't in the mood for cards. She could always walk down to Sharon's room and play with the new baby, but for some reason the infant made her very uncomfortable. She could even go find something to read in the makeshift library that they had put together from what books anyone could scrounge, but she didn't think any of them would hold her interest.

Her day had turned into a spectacular mope. She had spent the last twelve hours going through the motions of living, and she hadn't spoken to a single person beyond a one-word greeting or a simple wave. She had picked up her assignment, done her job, eaten two meals, and cleaned up — all without interacting with anyone. It wasn't that she was always in her own little world, but it told her just how preoccupied she was with Lee's recent behavior and more specifically the way he'd turned his back on her this morning.

Maybe that was the worst part. She had woken up alone, and she could deal with that. But despite giving him her best smile — and that had been an effort before her coffee or her run — he had done no more than mumble and turn his back. It had left her feeling like she'd done something wrong, and even that wouldn't have bothered her if she could figure out what the hell it had been. She and Lee had actually been on good terms lately. Neither was particularly tired or sniping, there was very little stress on them beyond the everyday worries of deep space, and even the people around them seemed fairly mellow. She couldn't figure out for the life of her what had set Lee off. But something had certainly done it.

Kara let out a loud sigh and turned on one side, staring at the door. He was late. If that didn't beat all, the guy was late. Very gradually, the kernel of doubt and worry began to twist itself into a genuine anger. Why the hell was she even worrying about all this? This was Lee. It wasn't like he was incapable of speaking his mind. If he had a problem with her, then he could frakking tell her about it or drop it altogether. She didn't really care which. In fact, she didn't have a clue why she had even let this mess with her head all day. She was getting as bad as some of the whiney kids that were flying the Raptors. Everything was a drama to them. Everything was life or death. Well, damn-it, she knew what was and wasn't life threatening, and Lee having a bad day was definitely on the less intense end of the spectrum. The only life in danger at the moment was his, because for some stupid reason he'd been on her mind long enough to get on her nerves. She had better things to worry about.

That was the way Lee found her nearly an hour later: just the other side of pissed off.

"You're late."

Lee looked up at her and she saw his eyes widen. At the very least he knew he was in for it. "Am I?"

Innocent? Not damn likely. "Forget how to tell time?"

He closed the door behind him and made a cursory glance at his wrist. "I didn't take that long getting through the paperwork," he muttered. "I'm only a little later than I was yesterday."

"Fine," she allowed, flopping over onto her back and changing her glare from him to the ceiling. She wasn't going to get trapped in those frakking blue eyes. She was ticked, and she planned to stay that way.

"Have a problem today?" he asked cautiously. That's right, she thought. Tread carefully.

"You tell me," she suggested.

She could almost hear the frustration in his voice, but she didn't believe for a moment that he was innocent. He knew just what he was doing. After twenty-five years, he knew every button that she had, and he pushed them like a master. It wasn't really relevant that she knew him just as well.

"Kara," he said with a tired sigh. "I didn't get much sleep last night. Are you going to get over this, or should I just go grab a bunk in squadron quarters?"

That had her head whipping back to him. "It's your room," she ground out.

"Maybe, but I'm in no mood to fight for it. I've spent the last two hours crunching numbers to get the most missions out of the least fuel, and I'm not ready for a fight just to get into my own bed."

"So this is my fault?" she asked just quiet of a yell.

"I don't even know what the hell is going on," he argued. "You're pissed. I get that. I have no clue why. Did I do something I don't know about?"

It was so close to what she had thought that morning that it took the wind right out of her sails. She was going off because he had come in an hour after his shift ended, rather than only ten or fifteen minutes. He didn't have to report to her after all. He wasn't married to her.

"Just ignore me," she suggested on a heavy sigh. "It's been a hell of a day."

He walked over with a genuine sympathy on his face. It was almost enough to set her off again. Almost, but not quite. "You okay?"

Turning her head sideways, she glanced at his face and those stupid, blue eyes caught her. As usual, she was stuck there. "Don't ask," she requested. There was no sarcasm present in her words, just honest exhaustion. She had thought about this until she couldn't think anymore. She was tired of being angry. She was just plain tired.

"Is it anything I need to know about?" he asked softly. "Anything with the squad, or with the crews?"

"No."

He nodded his understanding. "You hit anyone I need to know about?" he asked with a grin.

"Not yet," she mumbled, then finally returned the smile. "I'm okay, Lee. Chalk it up to a day under Vipers rather than in them. You know how I feel about maintenance."

"About the same as I feel about paperwork," he muttered with a smile. He bumped her over using his hip and took the space beside her. She might have protested, but he was just so damned warm. How was she supposed to fight that?

"Just about," she agreed. At least she wasn't looking him in the eye anymore. She'd had about enough of that. "Other than battling math, how was your day?"

"Same old same old," he replied quietly. "My dad says hi'."

"Tell him the same," she requested.

They lapsed into a silence that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, but just there. She really missed the days when they didn't need to say anything to one another. Now she knew they did, but had no clue where to start.

"You tired?" he asked her. Like there was any question about that.

"Yeah."

"You gonna shower?"

"No."

A long pause, and then, "Are we okay?"

She thought about that. It was her opening. He had given her the perfect invitation to get all this out in the open and deal with it. All she had to do was open her mouth and let him have it. All she wanted to do was turn over and kiss him.

"We're fine," she told him softly. Then she turned her back on him, and backed herself up into his warmth. She didn't bother with covers, or getting rid of her uniform. She just closed her eyes and went to sleep. Maybe tomorrow would be better.


	3. A Day at Work

Chapter 3

William Adama was content. It seemed a stupid word for what he was feeling, but it was as close as he could get. Amidst the tragedy around him, for this moment in time they were not in imminent danger, he had his family around him, and no major crises were demanding his attention. As the Commander of the last battlestar, and the reluctant military leader of humanity's survivors, it was a feeling he knew to be very rare.

At the moment he was just watching a scene that would have made any father proud. Well, any commander too, for that matter. His Commander of the Air Group was sitting with his plotting specialist and mapping out routes for possible exploration for necessary raw materials. It wasn't that they were low on anything in particular — they were actually doing quite well given what they had started with — but it was rapidly coming to a point where they would need to begin creating new materials rather than making due with the old. They needed to begin making parts for their fleet, possibly even entire new ships, and for that they would need the raw materials.

The last six months had been relatively free of disasters, so they had done their best to convert less habitable ships in the fleet into more factory-oriented craft. They had managed to put together the equipment necessary for melting and shaping metals, creating various forms of plastics and other silicon based necessities, and manage a few of the other details that had been taken for granted planet-side for so many years.

Now that they had the equipment available, and the personnel trained, it was time to begin bringing in the materials necessary for the processes. That meant exploration more specific than a general look-and-see mission. It was a specific seek-and-find that required more planning, more plotting, and a hell of a lot more luck. He was hoping they would have the skill to pull it off. He had to believe that they would. Faith had brought them this far, so it would have to take them further.

But aside from his pride in his son and the job he was doing as CAG, he was also proud of his entire bridge crew. They were essentially unchanged from the men and women he had worked with before the war, but their skills were much more finely honed. His presence on the bridge, or Colonel Tigh's in his absence, was more a technicality than necessity. Lieutenant Gaeta could effectively run the ship, and had on more than one occasion. Captain Kelly could do it as well, although he preferred to stay off the bridge when he could arrange it. They were a crew who could do their jobs without asking why, and without missing a beat. They were the main reason he was able to sleep at night.

But as a father, there was an entirely different level of pride in his own son serving under him. It was nearly forbidden by Fleet regulation, but concessions had to be made for limited personnel of rank. Lee had been Chief Pilot by both rank and experience, not by Adama's personal choice. For that matter, when his son had been appointed to the position, the eldest Adama hadn't even known that he was alive. It wasn't favoritism, but pure military organization and structure. If it also put his son on the bridge with him at least twice a day, then a father just had to take pleasant rewards as they came.

"Finding anything?" the Commander asked as he approached Lieutenant Gaeta and his son. He didn't want to interrupt them, but his curiosity was getting the better of him.

"Scanners are showing higher mineral levels in this quadrant," Gaeta informed him. "But it's not a particularly smooth ride."

"We'd have to jump in and jump back," Lee confirmed, looking up at Adama for a moment with his wife's eyes. That blue flash still startled him on occasion, but he'd learned to ignore it. "And that could get tricky with such different weights going in and coming out."

"We managed it with Tylium," Adama reminded them. "Isn't that a heavy ore?"

"Not particularly," Gaeta corrected. "At least not once it's processed. We don't normally jump with the raw ore. It's denser than the fluid form, and a lot heavier. We prefer sub-light transport when we can manage it."

"Should we turn the fleet?" he asked carefully. The path they were on now was clear and open, with a number of useful planets scanned in their path. None showed signs of life or acceptable environmental levels, but they were showing both water and vegetation, which were always things they were on the lookout for.

Lee looked up at Gaeta and the question was in his eyes as well. "I'd jump it before we made that big of a course adjustment," Lee said. "Passive scans aren't always reliable, and active scans are detectable. We need to be sure what we're looking for is there before we redirect an entire fleet."

Gaeta nodded his agreement. "Do we have the ships for that?"

Lee looked down at the clipboard that was never far from his hand. He always knew where what was, and who was flying it. It was one of the things that William most admired about the Captain. He didn't take anything on faith; he always had it in writing right before him. "It'll be tight," he admitted, tapping a few keys to check a second list. "I only have two extra Raptors with functional jump drives. We use the other two for keeping lookout before and behind the fleet."

"It should only take one," William said firmly, and then to Gaeta, "Go ahead and plot it. We can't miss an opportunity." The lieutenant gave a nod, and quickly left them alone. Lee's eyes were back down on his roster, and his mind was likely on who he would assign to the mission. Still, his son's scrutiny was rather intense for what was essentially a routine mission.

"Everything okay?" he asked in a softer voice, one that wouldn't carry across the bridge.

Lee's eyes flashed up at him again, and once more William saw Iilya looking up at him. It didn't happen often, so it took a moment to peg what was causing the connection. After a few seconds, he had it. Lee was worried about something. It was the same expression his wife had shown before every one of his deployments. "Yeah," Lee obviously lied. "No problems."

"Try again," he prompted his son.

There was the quirk to one side of Lee's mouth as his eyes dodged away. He knew he had been caught. "Nothing's wrong with the flight deck or crews. I'm just not sleeping real well lately."

"Really?" he asked, and he knew there was more humor in his voice than was probably professional. But this wasn't a professional discussion. Not anymore.

Lee shrugged one shoulder. "I'll get through it," he hedged. 

William took the seat next to his son that had been vacated by Lieutenant Gaeta and pulled the star chart closer but really didn't see it. "Is it Kara?" he asked sofly.

Lee's indrawn breath told him more than his words. "Yes and no," Lee allowed. "Mostly it's me. Just having trouble getting some things straight in my mind."

William smiled genuinely at that. "You always did think things to death," he remarked. "It's a fine skill planning missions, but once the execution begins you have to be faster on your feet."

"Some missions don't get past the planning stage," Lee grumbled. "And maybe they shouldn't."

William didn't have to look at his son's face to know that they weren't discussing planetary exploration or Viper flights. The mission in question was decidedly more personal in nature. The commander in him still held a measure of concern, but the father in him was getting frustrated with dancing around the subject. He had a feeling his son was, too.

"If you need to talk, I get off in about two hours," William told him.

That brought Lee's eyes back to him. "Thanks," he said gently. "But I think I have to work this out for myself."

"Maybe," Adama allowed. "Or maybe you should talk to someone besides me."

He didn't wait for Lee's reaction, but instead he stood up and slid the chair back into its place beneath the desk with a practiced hand. One thing you learned on the bridge was that when things happened, they did so quickly. Tripping over a chair wasn't what you needed to do. 

"Let me know when you have the mission set," he requested in a louder voice, the one that carried whether intentional or not throughout the bridge. "And run the roster by Colonel Tigh."

"Yes, Sir," Lee replied, and then went back to working with his clipboard. William watched him for a moment, then someone else caught his eye. With a slight frown, he walked towards the Draedus console.

"You're early, my friend," he said softly. "Problem?"

"Just bored," Paul replied with a slight smile. "Thought I might as well be bored here as bored in my room. At least here I get some paperwork done."

William smiled at that. Colonel Paul Tigh, who was essentially his right arm when running this ship and the fleet in general, absolutely hated paperwork. Unfortunately, as the Executive Officer of the Galactica, that was primarily what his job encompassed when they weren't in life or death struggles. William gave the orders, and Tigh logged them and sent them out so that the crew carried them out. Even when William gave a direct order, it was still Paul that had to make sure it was logged and then follow up on its execution.

"And you think it'll be more interesting here?" William asked with a smirk.

"Couldn't be worse," Paul admitted quietly.

"Well, if you're here anyway, go check on the com-chatter. We probably have at least a dozen requests for one thing or another and we may as well start trying to get things done."

"Yes, Sir," Paul said with an unhappy smile and turned to do the work.

William worried about his friend. Paul was not a happy man. He had never been a barrel of sunshine, but back when they'd been flying Vipers at least the man had had as many good days as bad. He had also had as many days in the bottle as out, but it was something William had overlooked due to friendship and Paul's willingness to keep his intoxication confined to off-duty hours. Since the fleet had begun its journey, alcohol had been essentially eliminated from their concerns. The few bottles that had existed were quickly consumed, and he had passed a regulation barring the production of more.

He didn't have any illusions that this was an entirely alcohol-free fleet. Any prohibition was an invitation to home-designed stills and underground activity. So long as there was sugar and yeast, some alcohol would be present. But on the Galactica, possession was severely punished so it hadn't been a problem. One or two bottles of home brew had been discovered, and those individuals had been immediately reassigned to less than ideal positions on other ships. The Galactica was a warship, and the only one they had. No one could know when the Cylons might jump in on top of them, and absolutely every officer and enlisted man would be needed on the spot. He couldn't have them drunk — not even one. Besides that fact, the potential for abuse in the depressive wake of the war had been far too high. He had wanted an escape himself on occasion, so he knew that his crew had to feel the same. Removing alcohol removed one possibility for disaster.

But for some, the discontinuance of alcohol consumption had been an issue. He had kept it quiet, but William had sent his XO to the Life Station for the first days following the attack. He had known that withdrawal could be dangerous, and Paul had been one of the most consistent alcoholics that William had ever seen. Sure enough, the physician had reported that even with medications to reduce the initial withdrawal phase, Paul had been out of it for several days. 

The official story had been that the XO had received a head injury during the last battle before the jump. It had been an easy way to justify a week of bed rest and close observation before he returned to duty. The reality was that most of the crew knew of Paul's problem even though they never said a word. Well, they didn't say a word to his face. The Commander had heard the running jokes for weeks, but he said nothing to either confirm or disprove the crew's suspicions. It was the only thing he could do to help his friend.

Paul's return to duty had signaled a new phase in his life. He was as competent on the job as he has always been, but without the indecision that had always been a part of him. The detox had been as much mental as physical, and Paul seemed determined to thank him in the only way that he could — by being the best damn XO than anyone had ever seen. Some days he tried a little too hard, but William appreciated the sentiment. Paul had now been dry for two and a half years, and gradually he had gained a small measure of respect from his crew. It was still tenuous —still new — but the seed of trust had taken root, and William firmly believed it would grow.

And Paul was more than determined to make it so. He had worked himself tirelessly since he had been discharged from Life Station, and frankly he put in as many hours as Adama did himself, or perhaps even more. He was endlessly patient with the crew — not counting those couple of blowups at the beginning — and was not above doing a few jobs that were normally considered "below" his rank. Hell, William had even seen him working on a backed up toilet a few months back. Definitely not in the XO's job description.

"Nothing too urgent," Colonel Tigh said as he approached the Commander from behind. "Just a couple of routine maintenance requests, and a few disciplinary issues. It's nothing that a few extra security guards and a couple of mechanics can't manage. Do you want me to send them out?"

William nodded. "I trust your judgment," he reminded Paul. When those blue eyes flashed up to his he knew he'd hit a nerve.

"Then why don't you call it a day?" the XO suggested. "No point in both of us being here. I'm sure you have something you'd rather be doing."

"Not really," Adama admitted. "But I should go check in with the President on the rest of the fleet's status. The ship captains may come to us, but you know the rest of the people go straight to her."

Paul nodded with a smile. "Tell her hello from me," he requested with a wink.

"I'll do that."

William managed to make it all the way out of CIC before the smile slipped through. Watching Roslin and Tigh in the same room was like seeing a fireworks display. However congenial the XO could manage to be with his crew — even the female members — he was a little too old fashioned to take orders from a woman. Something about Laura Roslin just plain rubbed him the wrong way, and the two couldn't manage to stay in the same room with one another for more than thirty seconds. As a fairly adept diplomat, William found the situation hysterical. He had a lot better sense than to relay the greeting that Tigh had sent him with. He wanted this to be a pleasant meeting. On the other hand, the President might find the remark as funny as he did.

Housed on the Galactica, the new Presidential Cabinet took up the vast majority of what had once been officer's quarters. It was the only area with individual bathrooms and larger beds that remained on the warship. His officers had long since moved into group or family quarters as a concession to space and efficiency. Most of them didn't mind, and the few that did hadn't been terribly vocal. On the other hand, he hadn't given them much of a choice. While Colonial One had been a good ship, she wasn't particularly fast and had no defenses. The cabinet was far safer on the Galactica, and it prevented unnecessarily stretching the security force too thin.

William took a look at the few papers he had grabbed prior to leaving the bridge. They were simple status reports on the Galactica's supplies and that of the rest of the fleet. It was the first thing Laura always asked for. Then she would drill him about security issues, repair needs, and tactical status. The whole briefing would take exactly eleven minutes if there were nothing out of the ordinary. He'd had the same meeting nearly every day since she had taken over as President. At this point, he didn't even mind it very much.

His preoccupation with his reports almost caused a head-on collision with one of his pilots. He jumped a good three feet, and papers floated every which-way. He was in the midst of apologizing for not watching where he was going, fishing around on the floor for his reports, when her laughter hit him. "Good morning, Starbuck," he told her with a grin, not even needing to see her face to know who it was. "You missed your run today."

Kara had knelt down to help him retrieve the scattered papers. She looked up at his remark, and he watched a veil fall over silvery green-gray eyes. He never had been able to figure out just what color her eyes were, but they were huge in her face right now, as though he had surprised her.

"Yes, Sir," she finally agreed. "I slept in."

"Not on duty?" he asked unnecessarily. He knew the roster. He knew she knew he knew the roster.

"Not today," she replied. But her voice wasn't level, and there was something there that bothered him.

"Problem?" He didn't elaborate. He knew there was one, or he wouldn't have asked. He also knew she was less likely to tell him about it than anyone else in the fleet. She could be an absolute clam when she wanted to be.

"No, Sir," she replied, as he had expected. A sneaking suspicion was growing in his mind that whatever had his favorite pilot tied up was the same thing that was bothering his son. 

"Lee getting on your nerves, yet?" he asked casually, and made sure that his eyes were trained on hers when the words came out. The reaction was just what he had expected. Her eyes went from wide open to clearly averted. He had hit the target. Now, he just needed to know what that target was.

"No, Sir," she replied, and he nearly winced. Three "sirs" in a row was enough to grate on any commander's nerves outside a court martial. It was especially annoying from someone as independent as Kara. She was most deliberately not making waves, and Kara on her best behavior was a sign that trouble was brewing.

"When's your next shift?" he asked her softly.

"Tomorrow on mid," she replied.

"Get some sleep between now and then," he advised. "You don't look like you feel well."

She nodded and handed him the few papers she had retrieved. "I will. Thanks."

"Thank you," he replied, gesturing to the reports. "Now try to watch out for old men in the corridors. Without our glasses, we're dangerous."

That finally brought a smile. "I'll do that."

As she walked away, he wanted to ask her what the hell was going on, but he had about as much chance of getting information out of her as he did his son. And somehow, he imagined that either one might have just as little insight as the other. Something was going on between them, and he had an idea about what it was. But a father could only do so much for his children, and he knew that this was one thing Lee would not thank him for interfering in. They would have to settle it in their own time, and in their own way. So long as it didn't begin interfering with their duties or affecting their health, he would let them do just that. If either of those two eventualities occurred, he'd have them both in his office and to hell with the consequences.

Thankfully, the days of identification badges and permits were long past. Adama nodded pleasantly to the guard outside the entrance to the cabinet housing, and approached Roslin's door. Two quick knocks were followed by a long pause. He was early, so it didn't surprise him that she wasn't ready.

She did surprise him when she opened the door. "Commander?" she asked with a startled expression. "You're early."

He had expected many things, but the President of the Colonies standing there in her bathrobe wasn't one of them. "I'm sorry," he sputtered. It was all he could think of to say.

She lifted one eyebrow but she did smile. "Come in," she invited. "I'll change in the bathroom."

He debated simply standing in the hallway, but decided that it would be more embarrassing to explain the situation to a passerby than to get caught walking into her room before she was dressed.

Thankfully, she wasn't one of those women who took an hour to put on clothes and makeup. Within five minutes she had returned to the sitting area of her room with a simple suit on and her own clipboard. "Anything interesting going on?" she asked quietly as she sat down in a chair opposite him.

"My relief to the shift showed up early," he explained. "I thought we could get this over with and both of us have more time later in the day."

"Very efficient," she agreed. "And our status?"

He looked at her for a moment, and for some reason he was struck with a blast of humor at the situation. Part of that came from relief. She was looking better. Her treatments had been done for nearly two years, but she had taken forever to get back to herself. Now she had finally regained not only the weight she'd lost but also the color and energy. She was no longer the fragile leader of a lost civilization, but rather the true President of the Twelve Colonies. Six months ago they had made it official, and she had been elected by an overwhelming majority. She had been more surprised than he had been. She had done a fine job of keeping the civilians together, and had put her life on the line for them more than once. In addition, she was a known entity, and was a member of the original cabinet. When you put that all together, most people didn't care that she was a woman, or that she had been ill, or even that she was little more than a glorified school-teacher. She cared about her people, and they knew it. But that wasn't what he found funny.

"Status is normal," he replied. "And Colonel Tigh says hello," he added with a grin.

It had been worth it. Her poised features broke into a self-conscious smile and she shook her head. "Am I ever going to live that man down?"

He laughed gently. "Not likely."

She shook her head and rubbed at her eyes. "I wish I knew what it was about that man that annoys me so much," she mused. "If I did, I'd just eliminate it and move on."

"I'm sure he feels the same way," William said with a smile. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't tease you about it. Everyone has their weak points. I suppose he's yours."

"I'm sure it's mutual," she said dryly. "But at least we can laugh about it now. I haven't been tempted to hit him in months."

"I'm not sure that's mutual," he returned with a straight face. There was a slight pause while they absorbed it, and then both of them broke into laughter. "He's a good man," the Commander finally said as he wiped tears from his eyes. "One of these days I'm going to make you see that. I may not always be here to run the fleet, and in my absence you'll have to get along with him."

She nodded, thankfully retaining the smile on her face. "Let's just make sure it's a long time off. I don't think our race would survive the two of us trying to cooperate."

"Maybe not," he agreed. "But at the moment our race is doing rather well. We've had four more births today," he began as he looked over his reports. "All healthy, and mothers are doing well. That brings us to almost fifty babies so far this month."

She nodded approvingly. "By the way, is there progress on the central nurseries for the Rising Star and the Galactica?"

"Not yet," he answered. While civilians were her area, of concern, the fact that this particular discussion involved his ship made the issue his decision. "I still think we need to keep it off the Galactica. This is a war ship, and not a place for children. Go ahead with plans for the Rising Star, though, by all means."

"I understand the Galactica's purpose, but you can't start separating families, and our military personnel are having children, too. How many births on the Galactica alone last year?"

"Ninety-seven," he replied. "But there's still the issue of nursing. There's no point in a daycare when mothers have to be present to feed their babies."

"But when they're toddlers, those mothers will be ready to go back to work, and they'll be needed on the job. We need to have some form of a daycare set up to accommodate that when it happens. The Galactica has what, two-hundred infants?"

"Close to it," he admitted.

She nodded. "The oldest are more than a year old, now," she reminded him. "Old enough for solid food and working parents if necessary. I'm not talking about mandating it, but the mothers who are non-military may be our first resource for caring for babies of working mothers. This project can't wait."

"Yes, Sir," he agreed reluctantly. It went against every one of his warrior's instincts, but she had a point. He couldn't kick his people off the ship for following directions and continuing the race. But neither could he put them back to work if they had a child on one hip.

"Now, what else do we have?"

William pulled out his rosters and scooted over closer to the President. This just might take longer than the eleven minutes he had planned for.


	4. Hiding Out

My sincere thanks to Lona for her excellent "nitpicks" — she is the world's most awesome line-editor!

Chapter 4

Lee Adama yawned widely and rubbed his eyes. It didn't seem to matter how many hours of sleep he managed in off hours, something about the night-shift exhausted him. Normally, it didn't present much of an issue, as he made the schedules and tended to exercise his right to stay on days. But for the moment, he didn't want to be there, and it was within his power to manage the opposite shift. It was an easy way out.

Strangely, it wasn't the work on days that was getting to him. It was the sleeping at night — or rather, the lack thereof. For more than a week, every time Kara snuggled in next to him it had brought him wide awake and presented him with either laying there miserably or turning over to his right side to have his back to her. Changing to the opposite side didn't relieve the discomfort completely — especially since it placed weight on his right thigh, a muscle that hadn't completely recovered from the blaster shot he'd taken more than a year before — but it at least prevented Kara from knowing what his problem was.

The temporary solution hadn't been a good one. He'd known that when he'd begun it, and yet he still hadn't counted on Kara's sleeping response of turning over herself and wrapping herself around his backside. It made the discomfort of his body even worse than having her in his lap, and had made sleep an impossibility. The very few times he'd drifted off, the dreams awakening him had been both embarrassing, and in one instance messy. It wasn't something that he planned to go through again, so until he sorted through what was going on with his head and body he was going to have to keep his shift opposite to Kara's. He had done so for the last week, and she hadn't really complained. Much.

So far, she hadn't asked many questions. There had been the requisite quiz on where he was spending his nights, but it had been easy enough to explain that Evans needed some time on days to familiarize himself with the CAG duties on that shift. Even to his own ears, the excuse sounded lame. He couldn't blame Kara for her disbelieving look. But she hadn't asked questions. He hadn't had to make up an answer.

His own questions were making him crazy, though. Why now? Why this way? Why Kara? He'd been sharing a room with her for nearly six months, and had done so on many occasions before then, and never had his body gone into overdrive. Granted, he'd been just this side of numb following the beginning of the war. While some of his pilots had been bunking with anyone warm and willing, he hadn't ever felt the desperate need to nail every woman in sight. In fact, he'd felt just the opposite. One of the primary reasons he'd turned to Kara was that he hadn't had any romantic feelings for her. He hadn't wanted the complications. 

Kara had always been someone he could stand to be close to. She wasn't really all that physical most of the time — she never had been — but she was willing to tolerate his presence on most occasions. The one feeling that had overwhelmed him at the beginning of their journey had been pure loneliness. He had lost every friend, most family members, and found himself in the unenviable position of having most of his squadrons hating him just for being there. He had been so desperate for comfort, any comfort, that even a hug from his father had been welcome.

Kara had seemed to be the perfect answer to his problems. She was sweet, soft, warm, and willing. But best of all, she didn't have any more expectation of sex from the relationship than he did. She had seemed to need the brief contacts they provided one another just as much as he did.

Kara had actually been the one to initiate the more physical side of their relationship. She had always seemed to know when the day had pushed him a little too far, and he needed something more than a smile. What began as gentle punches to the arm or coming up from behind to lean against him and peek over his shoulder had quickly progressed to pats on the back and the occasional hug. The transition had been so gradual that he hadn't realized when quick hugs had replaced the more playful actions, and holding on to his arm in a hallway had become the norm.

It hadn't just been him that Kara had touched, though. Maybe it was because she was a woman — however much she seemed to want to ignore that fact — but he often caught her hugging one of the guys after a bad day, or grabbing someone around the waist as a joke. 

That she had also thrown her share of punches in those early days was something he had tried to ignore. As CAG, he'd had to call her on a few of them, but for the most part he just let the guy punch back, and when it was over they both wound up with extra duties. There was more than one way to release the frustration of losing everything close to you, and spontaneous violence was definitely one of them. Gradually a pecking order had been established in the squadrons — one that went far beyond rank or experience — and he'd been able to worry less about all of them. The fights had come to an end on their own, and he hadn't had to further alienate himself from his squads by involving his father.

Kara had also shown concern for the laidies of the squadrons, and especially to the rooks that were so lost in the beginning. He hadn't known that she had so much patience in her, but she'd guided so many of the young women through crying fits and breakdowns that he'd really been shocked. She seemed to know whether they needed a shoulder to cry on or a good screaming at to get themselves together. He had followed her example regarding when to scream and when to comfort, and it had served him as well as anything in those early days. Diplomacy certainly hadn't worked with them, and rationality hadn't been a strong point either to those who had had their world ripped from beneath them. They had come a long way since then, and he couldn't help but be grateful that he didn't constantly have to think about who he was talking to or what was the right thing to say. Now, he could just do his job, and most days that was more than enough.

Lee tucked his clipboard under his arm and looked over the last Viper in the line. She was a beauty, sporting a fresh coat of paint and a newly rebuilt engine. Tyrol had trained his crews to be masters at taking apart, repairing, and putting back together every part of each spacecraft. It was a necessity for keeping their planes in the air, but the added touches of new paint and restored nameplates continued to surprise him.

"It's about pride, Sir," the older man had told him with a smile after explaining the way pilot nameplates could be removed and added as the men moved from one ship to another. The principle was simple magnetics — the nameplate was the magnet, and the ship was metal — but the difference it had made to morale had been amazing. Lee wouldn't have believed that something so simple as having a name on a bird would make the pilot so much more willing to fly the dirty shifts. But it had.

There were other touches that Lee saw as well as he looked around the hangar bay. Vipers were neatly lined against one wall, and Raptors against another. Shuttles were housed on the starboard side of the ship, along with an emergency squadron of both Vipers and Raptors. Most of the auxiliary shuttles and visiting crafts used that bay, keeping it isolated from their main war squadrons. In the event that the Cylons were to come at them from that side, they needed it accessible, but the Commander didn't want just anyone walking around their only means of defense. So the majority of their crafts were here in the port bay, and it was Tyrol's primary home.

Lee had two patrols out at the moment. Two Vipers and one Raptor were patrolling the area directly in their path in a one-hundred-eighty degree arc. They needed to know what the fleet was coming into. A second Raptor was behind them at his father's request, checking the space they had left for any electronic or wireless signals that could mean they were being followed. It was an absolute minimum of planes in the air, and it was something they maintained every hour of every day of every week. They had to be sure they were alone in space. It was their only hope of survival.

But that meant that over thirty Vipers remained on the Battlestar at any given time, and that most of his pilots were looking for things to do to keep themselves busy. They couldn't waste the fuel to keep more of them in the air when there wasn't a real need, but that didn't make it any easier to rotate the few flying positions in an equitable manner.

In the earlier days of the war, they had flown everything they had, nearly around the clock. It had kept them busy, and yet they had still had more pilots than spacecraft for them to fly. Tyrol had used every scrap they found of debris or dead aircraft to build up their fleet. He had modified parts, built new parts, and had generally reworked things until he had almost twice the initial flight complement. It was still too many pilots for their ships, but one did not indiscriminately turn away a pilot. 

Adama had reassigned a few, however. That had hurt. Kara had been very unhappy when she'd been assigned the task of helping him weed out the less qualified pilots and transfer them into security positions through the fleet. Actually, they had been more than merely less qualified. They had been a hazard to themselves and others. Not everyone was equipped for space travel, and some of their new pilots had been positively dangerous. It had actually been more of a safety measure than one of pure numbers, but it had made a convenient excuse.

He knew she understood the necessity, but neither of them had liked it. They were pilots, and they understood that tremendous need to be in open space. Taking it from someone else seemed almost criminal. But they had followed orders. Remembering the day when they had released thirty pilots from flight status also reminded Lee of the first time he'd thought Kara might actually break down. He had been the one to initiate a hug that time, and it still stuck in his mind because of the way she had grabbed hold and held on. After standing together for several minutes, regardless of who might have seen them on the flight deck, she had given a final squeeze and released him to go back to quarters. He hadn't gotten a good look at her face that day. He hadn't wanted to. Now, he was very glad of that. Knowing her as he did, he could only imagine the pain that he would have witnessed. They were pilots to him — kindred spirits, if nothing else — but to her they had been friends.

It was three in the morning, and there wasn't a damn thing left for Lee to do. He was still staring down the line of Vipers, which sat at the ready. There were ten pilots in the ready-room, just in case they got any surprises. Some were sleeping, others were playing cards or reading, and none were likely to bother him if he chose to do some of his paperwork in there. If the fleet was attacked, they would at least have something to start with. He prayed it never came to that.

"You're up late, CAG," Chief Tyrol commented as he walked up behind him. "Why are you covering nights, anyway?"

It was a measure of how far they'd come from their initial meeting that the question could be asked so casually. Lee hadn't made a good impression on the Chief when he'd first landed on the Galactica. It had taken a lot of work to live that down. Respect had been a long time in being built, but Lee thought he might have managed it. "I took nights this week," Lee admitted. "I want Evans to get used to full duty on days in case it's ever necessary. Better to do it now than wait and have him thrown into an emergency." Then, turning to Tyrol he asked, "How about you?"

The chief shrugged. "Aaron's teething," he admitted, referring to his and Sharon's year-old son. "I get more sleep in the daytime. I put Cally on first shift to cover for me until things get back to normal."

Lee nodded with a smile. The new babies aboard the Galactica were presenting a challenge to everyone. Family quarters were most often separated by movable partitions, and they weren't known for auditory privacy. When you added a few crying babies to the mix, nobody got any sleep. Quarters that had once been coveted for their visual privacy were now dreaded for the auditory assault. It was a problem they were going to have to address, but that wasn't his problem. His responsibilities ended with the flight crews, just as the Chief's ended with the function of his spacecraft and his deck crew. They all had enough responsibility without taking on more.

"They look good," Lee said softly.

"Yes, they do," Tyrol replied with pride clear in his voice. "Every one has been overhauled and is in prime shape. They're ready to roll if there's a need."

"Are you rotating them?" Lee asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"Yes, Sir. A new bird each shift, just to be sure everything stays in working order and we aren't developing any glitches. We've been through four full rotations with no problems beyond preventative maintenance."

"Excellent."

The Chief just nodded. He did his job, and did it damn well. His crew was probably the best that Lee had ever relied on, and that was saying something. No, they weren't back to where they'd been before the war, but as far as defense went they were as near as it was possible to be given the limited supplies and men. Lords, he only prayed that it was enough.

The next two hours passed in a similar vein. He was an efficient officer, more used to the pace of days than nights, so his work was consistently finished far before he really wanted it to be. Never one to sit idle, Lee kept making up jobs to keep himself busy, grateful all the while that Tyrol didn't call him on it. The next time he looked at his watch, it was approaching five-thirty, and he knew that he had to find something more to occupy him for the next hour. Kara would be running the corridors of the Galactica, and the last thing he wanted was to run into her on the way back to his room. Check that; the last thing he wanted was to walk into the room after her run and find her in the shower.

Which brought his thoughts around full circle to what the hell had caused the sudden wakeup in his libido during the last few weeks. He knew part of it was pure Kara; she was sexy as hell even when she didn't try. But the rest was a mystery because even months earlier when they'd shared a few kisses and maybe speculated about getting closer, he hadn't felt as out-of-control of the situation as he did now. After the assault she'd suffered, it had only seemed natural to withdraw back into their comfortable friendship. Even when she'd moved in with him, they had lived in the same room, shared the same bed, and had even withdrawn from the few stolen kisses of their past. He assumed she wanted it that way, and he wouldn't dare pressure her. Now he didn't know what the frak he wanted.

But he did know that a naked Kara — or even a scantly dressed and sweaty Kara — was more than his carefully controlled body was ready for. Hence, absence was his best chance of keeping his friendship with her intact. He would rather spend time without her then to be near her and either offend her or just plain piss her off.

If she had been just one of the girls he'd been with back in college or the academy, it wouldn't have worried him. After all, once the sex had been done, he hadn't wanted any more to do with them than they had wanted from him. It had been a mutual conclusion to several brief relationships. Eventually he had come to the conclusion that it just wasn't worth the effort. He could take care of the sexual relief himself given a few extra minutes in the shower, and could maintain friendships with woman all the better for it.

But even the thought of being so dreadfully uncomfortable around Kara made him vaguely sick to his stomach. Body aside, he relied on her mind and her emotions to keep him in balance. None of them had had much to cling to since the beginning of the war, but at the very least he'd had her. It wasn't something he was willing to trade for a few hours of relief, regardless of how much he might want to at the moment.

Lee settled himself into the ready room to complete reports on the night's maintenance, repairs, and duty status. He had two Vipers and a Raptor ready to go out on the early-watch at seven o'clock, and the same complement coming in at seven-thirty. The two teams would overlap, but that was fine with him. Better to have two teams in the air than none. At eight o'clock, the rear patrol would launch in the same manner, their predecessors returning at eight-thirty. The two teams would pass one another, and give a brief wireless report as they traded watch. It would start all over again at fifteen-hundred with a mid-watch, then another late-watch at twenty-three hundred. 

The schedule left his pilots on a three-day rotation, but it was the best they could manage. They had one shift to fly, one day on routine repairs and cleanup, and then one day off. It was too much free time, but he preferred it to assigning the multiple cleanup shifts that had initially turned everyone against him. In the early days, they'd had so many repairs to accomplish that one day off in ten was a treat. There was no reason to overwork them now. Tired pilots got sloppy, and sloppy pilots got themselves and others killed.

He had rotations set up for the next two weeks by the time he looked down at his watch. Six-forty. If he wanted to miss Kara, he would have to get the hell out of here. She was on early-watch, and she was flying today. He began hastily stacking the papers that he had scattered in his concentration on equitable division of duties. He almost had them into a stack when he heard her voice. Frak!

"two clicks out and then a ninety-degree turn," she was saying, most likely to her wingman. "Then a parallel path around, a one-eighty, and the same at three clicks. Just stay on my right, and I'll call the turns."

"Yes, Sir," Emily replied. 

Lee couldn't help smiling. Em was a new transfer from the Altingham, a larger craft that they had been breaking down into scrap metal and parts as they towed it along. It was one of the many ships that had not really been ready for their initial FTL jumps, and had been essentially destroyed by their most recent ones. With engines beyond repair, they were salvaging what they could. The three pilots aboard had been given their choice of assignment, and Emily had gamely chosen the Galactica. Lee was pleased with her choice, as she was both quick and accurate in her skills. She wasn't Kara, but given a few more years she might be that good.

As one of his only experienced flight instructors, Kara had recently been given their rookies to train on Viper and Raptor flight as backups to the pilots they had transferred out. She hadn't complained about the onslaught of baseline rookies, but she wasn't singing their praises either. It had been yet another way he could justify keeping them on separate duties. If it was an easy copout, he couldn't complain.

"Good morning, Captain Apollo," Em said brightly. He didn't think he'd ever been that young.

"Morning, Lieutenant Davis," he returned. He stood and had to face them as they entered the ready room. To do less would be rude, and would be damned hard to explain. "Lieutenant Thrace," he added with a nod and smile.

The smile wasn't returned. In fact, the look on her face was just this side of belligerent. "Lee," she said firmly with her own nod. So much for keeping this professional. Still, he wasn't going to press it when there was a cadet standing nearby with a more than interested look on her face.

"I'll just get out of your way," he said simply as he tucked a stack of papers onto his clipboard. "I'm sure you're still going over the flight plan. Be safe out there."

"Yes, Sir," Em Davis told him with a smile.

"This isn't over," Kara called to his back. He winced, but he didn't turn around. He refused to have this discussion in front of witnesses, but most especially a new cadet. If Kara planned to corner him, she would just have to do it when she was off duty and he was well rested. He'd designed the schedule with that in mind. He kept walking, and it was with more relief than he cared to admit that he exited the flight bay and entered the main corridor of the Galactica. He didn't look back until he was in his room and carefully closing the door behind him.

Lee spent the next three hours staring at his ceiling. Sleep was out of the question, and he was slowly going out of his mind. If he had any sense at all, he'd go to Salik and get something that would put him out, but it seemed like overkill.

To begin with, there was really nothing wrong with him beyond an overactive mind and an irritating libido. Even with Kara out of his bed, her pillow still bore her scent, and despite wearing both duty uniform and three blankets, he just couldn't seem to get warm. He didn't know how much of it was in his imagination and how much was really temperature, but he was cold.

Lee turned over and stared at the door. Kara wouldn't be coming through it in the near future. It wasn't even noon, and she would be out on patrol until fifteen-thirty. That meant that he had about four hours to get some sleep and then find someplace else to be.

Perhaps that was what irritated him the most about the situation. He could barely stand to be around her, even as a friend. Despite his determination not to mess up their friendship with something sexual, his attempts to maintain their friendship were accomplishing essentially the same thing. On top of that, he was probably making Kara as nuts as he was. He had thought that all he needed was a little space to get his mind and body back under control, but absence wasn't helping the situation. It might be preventing her from realizing what was ultimately causing his withdrawal, but it wasn't offering any kind of solution to the situation. Quite bluntly, the problem wasn't going away just because he wasn't around her.

Absently, Lee wondered if this was what Zak had felt like. He didn't think of Zak and Kara together very much — at least not in his waking hours — but occasionally he wondered about it. They had always seemed happy when they'd been together, and definitely playful. Zak had always had his hands all over Kara, and at the time it had annoyed Lee. He had chalked it up to immaturity and hormones, but it had still rankled. The annoyance hadn't stemmed from anything really personal — he hadn't had any interest in Kara for himself — but it had never seemed really appropriate to watch public displays of affection, and especially not from his kid brother. He would have felt the same way if Zak's hands had been all over anyone.

Kara had never really seemed to mind it though. She hadn't been as groping as Zak was, but she'd given her fair share of kisses and hugs along the way. Oddly, she'd never seemed to stay in his embrace any longer than she had to, but he had really thought that it was the same PDA issues that had bothered him at the time. At the Academy, they'd had military regulation drilled into them at every turn. One of those regs was regarding Public Displays of Affection, and he had just assumed that Kara was finally taking a rule seriously. He probably should have known better.

But now that he thought of it, Kara had never really been physically demonstrative, even to Zak. Most of the physical contact they'd had as kids stemmed from knock-down drag-out games where they tackled one another as a matter of course. She had huddled in bed with them during the occasional thunderstorm, but most times she kept to her own space. In retrospect, he realized that the vast majority of the couple's physical contact had been initiated by Zak, not Kara. He wondered what that might have meant.

The two of them had been a cute couple. Zak had always looked older than his age, and Kara had always looked younger, so they had blended into a fairly nice pair. When their engagement had been announced, Lee had been less stunned than the rest of the family — having caught them in more than one compromising position over the years — but even his parents had seemed to like the match. The two of them had just gone together. If Lee had sometimes felt very much like an outsider, he hadn't dwelt on it. He had just stayed a little later at school, or spent a little more time in the books once he was home.

And when he was around them, they seemed pretty happy. They didn't argue much, but that was likely because Zak could charm his way out of anything with just about anyone — including Kara. He flashed those big brown eyes and everyone seemed to fall all over themselves to accommodate whatever he needed or wanted. It had grated on Lee's nerves only because he couldn't get away with the same things. He was the oldest — the responsible one — and the one expected to follow in his father's footsteps. 

Lee flipped onto his back, staring at the ceiling once more. This wasn't getting him anywhere. The only thing he had really accomplished was making sure that he really couldn't sleep. The last thing he wanted to do was drift off with Zak on his mind and risk another of the disturbing nightmares that had so shaken him before. His overactive imagination would have a field day with the memories he was pondering now.

Another half-hour of silence was all Lee could stand. He got himself out of bed, stripped down to undershirts and put on running shorts, then got on his running shoes. He had deliberately been skipping the morning runs with Kara, although most nights the work was complete well before her alarm would go off at five-thirty. He could have easily skipped a meal period and taken the time to meet her for her run, and he had done it enough in the past. But he hadn't been able to face the thought of her running clothes clinging in all the right places. Still, just because he couldn't handle having her running with him, it didn't mean that a good run wouldn't clear his head and possibly make him tired enough to settle down and sleep. He sure as hell couldn't feel any worse.

He spent a few minutes stretching, using his bunk for support, and then slipped out of his room and into an easy stride. It was slower than the pace that Kara would set, but it was comfortable.

And there she was again, dammit! He was back to associating everything in his life with that one woman. How in hell had he let his life get so tangled up with hers? Before the war, they had gone two years — two years — without even speaking. There had been a couple of letters to let one another know they were living and well, but beyond that they hadn't even managed a phone call. Lee hadn't wanted to hear her staunch defense of his father, and she hadn't been ready to accept that his father was responsible for Zak's death. Okay, so he'd been very wrong about that, but he'd been working with the information he'd had available at the time. Knowing what he did now, it seemed an incredible waste of time and energy. All the anger in the world hadn't brought Zak back, and it had damn near destroyed his relationship with his father. It had also driven a moderate wedge between him and his mother, who had forgiven the eldest Adama whether he was responsible or not, and couldn't understand why her son could not do the same.

So he'd lived without Kara in his life before. Granted, not in such close quarters, but still he could manage it. He might have to check with his dad about moving back into crew quarters, but he hated to take Kara's bathroom away from her. If there was one thing he really loved about his own office and bed, it was that they provided Kara with some much-needed privacy. He didn't keep it for himself — hadn't even requested it for himself — but had asked because he had thought it could help her.

And so he was back to her. Again.

"Good morning."

Lee glanced at his watch before slowing to a walk and greeting his father. He was breathing deeply, but not yet out of breath. A conversation might make a nice diversion. "For a few more minutes, anyway," he agreed. "How's it going?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Adama said with a raised eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

"Still getting used to odd shifts," Lee explained. It was part of the truth. The rest wasn't something that he planned to discuss with a parent.

"Why are you on them?"

Leave it to his father to be blunt. "Needed to train someone else to take days," he hedged. "Who knows, I may get sick someday, or actually get time for a long patrol."

"Kara doesn't know your job?" he asked with a wink. He knew that she did. She was his deputy CAG, and had been since his assignment in the position. Technically, the position probably should have gone to her in the first place.

"Better than I do," he agreed with a grumble. He wasn't going to explain that Kara was the problem. "But it doesn't hurt to have a couple other people trained to the routine."

"And you aren't training him personally because"

"Because I won't be here to hold his hand if I'm not able to act as CAG. He'd need to muddle through it just like he's doing it now. It's actually easier to learn the job if you make your own mistakes along the way, and come up with your own schedule and system for doing things. He has a list of responsibilities, and if he has any problems he knows where to find me."

"Logical," his father finally admitted. Lee was almost ready to release the breath he'd been holding when his father added, "and convenient."

Okay. He'd bite. "What do you mean by that?" he asked blandly. He had stopped walking, forcing his father to do the same, and was now facing the older man eye-to-eye.

Adama looked at him with due consideration for a long moment. Those penetrating eyes seemed to search out everything, both as commander and father. Finally the older man looked away and began to walk again. Lee followed. "For the last several months, you've had a shadow," Adama said quietly. "She ran with you, ate with you, and from what I understand she was sleeping in your room too. Correct?"

Lee didn't like the way this was going, but he couldn't see arguing with the obvious. More than one friend had asked where she was in the last few days. She was likely getting the same quizzes about his whereabouts. "Yeah."

"For the last week, you've been pulling awkward shifts, eating alone, and judging from the circles under your eyes you've not been sleeping at all. Am I pretty close?"

Once more, Lee saw no point in arguing. His father always had seen more than anyone had a right to. "How do you know all this stuff?" Lee muttered. The question was redundant.

He got his answer with a wink. "I have spies everywhere."

Lee met his father's gaze and was at least relieved to see a spark of humor there, rather than the censure he had feared. His father had always liked Kara, to the point of causing occasional friction in the household as Zak and Lee had felt replaced. It was childish then, and there was no point in going back to it now. He couldn't help wondering if he were in for it because he hadn't given Kara due attention. "Okay, go ahead. Proceed with lecture."

"No lecture," the Commander assured him. "Just a recommendation."

Lee gave a soft laugh. A recommendation from his Commander, father or not, might just be considered an order. "Which is?"

"I've learned something in the last few years," his father told him gently. "What we have today, we will not necessarily have tomorrow. My recommendation is that you look at what you have, and decide what you want to keep. If you take for granted that someone will always be there, you may be sadly disappointed." Adama turned and faced him, gently taking his arm so that he would stop and meet his father's eyes. "When she's around," he said simply, "You smile more. You laugh some. And" His voice trailed off.

"And what?"

His father's smile wasn't humorous this time, but rather sad. "And you can sleep."

Lee didn't know what to say to that. Thankfully, his father didn't seem to require an answer, but simply continued walking down the corridor, apparently to whatever his destination had been before he'd stopped to talk.

Lee thought about continuing his run, but decided to head for the shower instead. He wasn't going to get any sleep before Kara was back in quarters, so at the very least he could take care of cleaning up and then maybe catch a nap when she was off duty. Hell, she might not even come back to the room given the way he'd been acting of late. He couldn't say that he would blame her. His father was right about one thing: if he didn't figure out what the hell he wanted, there was no way he could make Kara understand what it was. And Kara wasn't known for waiting around.


	5. Justifiable Homicide

Seriously sappy romance warning reader beware! g

Chapter 5

Kara landed her Viper with all the skill and none of the interest that she usually managed. It was one more reason she was angry. Not only was the jerk making it impossible for her to sleep and boring for her to run, but he had even managed to occupy her mind during flight and suck the joy out of the only patrol she'd have for three days.

She might have to kill him.

The past week had managed to destroy her nerves in a way that she had never experienced before. It wasn't just a matter of feeling like she'd done something wrong — she was way past that — but rather of wondering what the frak had happened to the one man in the world that she had thought she understood. She hadn't been lying when she'd said it wasn't over. She was going to find out what was with him, or kill both of them trying. She simply couldn't go on this way.

At first, she'd actually thought it was her imagination. He'd been a little distant, yeah, but everyone had a right to be preoccupied on occasion. She knew he wasn't sleeping very well, although he wouldn't tell her why. Up until a week ago, she'd been very aware of his sleeping habits. He had awoken her more than once getting up in the middle of the night, scooting over as far as he could manage without hitting the floor, and even taking showers at two in the morning. Something had been on his mind, and she had trusted that eventually he would come to her with it. That was just what they did for one another — they confided, and they listened. But he hadn't, and she was damned tired of waiting.

Her waiting was over. 

She shut down systems in the Viper by rote, grabbing the clipboard from Cally just as soon as the canopy slid open and tapping in the relevant information into it as quickly as she could. She had the information entered before she even bothered with taking off her helmet.

"Everything go okay?" Cally asked her once she had taken the metal and lexan helmet from Kara. It was the usual routine, but Kara felt a long way from usual.

"Fine."

"Anything notable on patrol?"

"No."

"Any problems with the Viper?"

"No."

"Going to tell me what has you pissed off?"

Kara's head snapped up at that, and she met brown eyes that didn't seem nearly as young as they had a couple of years ago. Cally was a good kid, and maybe more than a kid, but Kara had no desire to get into this with anyone except Lee. She was going to beat the crap out of someone, and she preferred that it be the object of her fury. "No," she said simply. Then, after taking a deep breath, "But thanks for asking."

"I'll finish here," Cally offered. "If I have any questions, I'll call you. Go ahead and grab a shower or a run or something. You look like you need to unwind."

Kara hadn't had a clue that she was so obvious, but she didn't care. She wasn't throwing away an opportunity like this. She had become almost civilized over the last couple of years, and she had forgotten the incredible adrenaline rush that accompanied unchecked anger and the promise of physical violence. "Thanks," she said gratefully as Cally unsnapped her collar and moved to the side of the stepladder to let Kara by.

Later, Kara wouldn't even remember the walk from the flight deck to Lee's room. She didn't pay particular attention to any of it. She had one goal in her mind, and one alone. She was going to beat the living daylights out of her roommate until he finally gave her some answers. Whatever his issues might be, she was going to figure it out, and she was doing it now. She truly hoped that he was sleeping; she wanted to get in the first punch before he had a chance to fight back. She hadn't learned her legendary right-cross on her own.

Shoving the hatch open, she found Lee sitting on the edge of the bed. His defeated expression didn't register, nor did his slumped posture or tired eyes. The only thing that she saw was that he was there, well within her reach, and she had every intention of hitting him.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" she growled as she pulled the hatch closed behind her and stepped towards him. He stood up immediately, assuming a defensive posture, and she honestly couldn't blame him for the choice. "It's bad enough that you won't stay in the same room with me for ten seconds, but I will not let you get away with it in front of the rooks."

"I'm sorry," he told her softly. She ignored him.

"I don't know what the frak your problem has been, but I'm sick and tired of being avoided and ignored. If you have a problem with me," she declared as she poked a sharp finger into the center of his chest, "Then I suggest you tell me what it is, or I swear I'm going to beat it out of you."

Lee had backed up a step, likely to get clear of her finger, which had brought his back to his locker and stopped his retreat. That was good. She had no intentions of chasing him around the room.

"I haven't done anything wrong!" she told him firmly, and very loudly. "At least nothing to justify you acting like I suddenly have a plague or something. I'm sick of people asking what your problem is and not knowing because you won't even open your frakking mouth and talk to me!"

He was flattened against the locker now, and she was screaming at him eye-to-eye. Her hands were clenched into fists, but she hadn't yet raised one against him. She was saving that. She hadn't hit Lee in years, but she remembered that it could be a very satisfying experience. She was looking forward to revisiting that feeling.

"You asked me to move in here," she growled. "If you've changed your frakking mind, just say something, damn-it! Don't treat me like a child, and don't you dare say that nothing's wrong!"

"I won't," he told her, his voice oddly quiet.

He wasn't arguing. He wasn't protesting. He wasn't defending himself. He wasn't doing a thing that she had expected him to do, and that only increased her fury. Couldn't this man just once do what she thought he would? Didn't she have any ability to read him anymore? Wasn't he the least bit upset that she was threatening his life here?

"So what the frak are you going to do?" 

He closed his eyes to her, most likely gathering his thoughts for some kind of an explanation, but the implied dismissal was the last straw. "Shit!" she declared as she hauled her right arm back and let it fly.

Lee was fast. Whether it had been her shouted exclamation, or if he just had some sense of rushing air and frantic woman, she would never know for sure. But she had learned to fight at his side, and he knew how to get around her. Rather than sidestepping her — which would have put her in a cast when her fist hit the locker behind him — he reached forward for her upper arms and used his superior arm length to his advantage. Braced against the locker, his arms locked into position and his hands gripping her arms, she had no momentum to complete the swing.

But she didn't give up. Hands and arms effectively useless, she went with feet, legs, and knees. She couldn't get close enough to make a knee do any permanent damage, but she came damned close. Feet on the other hand were just fine. She placed a sharp kick of her flight boots into his right shin and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes close in pain and his grip momentarily lessen.

But she never got her arms free. Instead of defending himself as she had expected, he went on the offensive. Holding on to her upper arms with enough strength to bruise, he used the locker for support and lifted one leg to wrap it around hers. If she hadn't been kicking him, she might have stayed upright, but as it was he took her only solid leg from beneath her, pressed forward with his shoulders, and sent them both towards the floor with her on the bottom.

Kara had never been so grateful to land on a bed in her life. With the momentum they'd been carrying, she might have broken an arm, or at the very least banged her back up bad enough to keep her out of the Vipers for a month. As it was, she was laying beneath him across the bed, her arms still pinned, and his knee resting firmly between her legs. She could still kick, but there was nothing in range for her to connect with. And damn him, he was too frakking heavy to buck off.

"Let me up!" she screamed with all the fury that was in her, not the least bit tempered by the embarrassment of having lost round one.

"Not a chance," he told her loudly, and she at least had the satisfaction of knowing that the effort had cost him. He was out of breath, and the pain was in his eyes if not in his expression.

"Then tell me what the frak is going on!" she demanded. She couldn't do more from her position, and it only increased her anger at him. This was his fault — all of it — and she didn't intend to let him forget that fact.

"Then shut up and listen to me," he suggested.

He was not telling her what to do. If she wanted to yell, then she'd yell. She didn't care if the whole crew heard her. Hell, half of them knew something was frakking wrong with him in the first place. She knew, because they'd been asking her, and she'd had no idea what to tell them. If the whole ship wanted to listen in on her rant, then it would only reduce the numbers to whom she would have to tell the story.

"Damn it, Lee, get the frak off me!" she screamed, and was so loud that the words were almost incoherent. She hadn't been this worked up about anyone or anything since she had sent a fist flying into Tigh's face years before, and she had three years of banked rage at life in general that she was fully planning to unleash on this man.

"Oh, shit," he finally said, and his voice was that oddly soft tone again. She could absolutely feel her blood pressure rise. With her luck, she'd have a stroke, but even at that he would have to explain her death. Maybe they'd stick him on the Astral Queen for blatant attempted murder.

She opened her mouth to scream again, this time for any help she might be able to get from those passing in the corridors, when his mouth descended to hers.

For a moment, she froze. If he'd been going for shock factor, he'd achieved it. She had to give him that. And yet while her first instinct was to bite a chunk out of his lower lip, there was something else in the kiss that she just couldn't ignore, despite her best efforts.

Lee was shaking. It wasn't the usual tremors resulting from anger or battle; she knew those well herself. What she was feeling was something else, and that was confirmed by the soft sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh as he shifted his lips on hers and settled himself in for the long haul.

She wasn't going to bite him. Not now. She was still furious, but she decided to put that energy into the kiss rather than into the beating he so richly deserved. She leaned up and kissed him back, hard. If he thought this was going to get him out of anything, he was sorely mistaken. She kissed him as she had wanted to do for as long as she could remember, with lips and teeth and tongue all mixing around with his. She kissed him until she couldn't have screamed if she'd wanted to, because she didn't have that much air left. She kissed him until he turned the tables and really began kissing her back. And then he took her under.

They had kissed before. Oh, even more than the pecks on the cheek as friends or the more avid kisses from a few months ago. But he hadn't made a move since, and she had assumed that he had regretted his actions. He'd asked her to move in, but once she'd taken up residence in his room he'd established a definite hands-off policy. They might hold one another at night, but during the daytime she was lucky to get more than a pat on the back. When he'd asked for a roommate, and assured her that it was nothing more than that, he had really meant it. She had been disappointed, but had accepted it. She really hadn't been ready for more anyway.

But this was not the kiss of a man who wasn't interested. It wasn't just an effort to end a fight or take her off guard. It wasn't gentle, and it wasn't coaxing. It was hot and powerful, and yet still not rough exactly. He wasn't hurting her, but he was making it clear that he was in full control of the situation. She did all she could to stay angry, and yet she just couldn't manage it. There was something almost frightening about the power of his lips on hers, his body pressing her heavily into the bed, and one of his arms moving subtly from restraint to holding her.

Maybe it was because he hadn't really touched her in over a week, and hadn't seemed to enjoy it for some time before that. Maybe it was because she hadn't been kissed, really kissed, in years. Maybe it was because this was Lee, and he'd been in her thoughts and dreams more often lately than she had. And maybe, just maybe, the reason she couldn't summon the will to resist it was because she had wanted just this to happen for so damn long that she couldn't remember when the wanting had started.

So he kissed her, and she kissed him back. Once he had released her arms, coming down to rest on his own as he remained above her, she slid her arms around him and pulled him closer. He didn't resist. He seemed to settle down into her body, his arm around her fully and his weight off just to one side. His knee was still between her legs, but it was more for support than to pin her down. Despite the aggressive nature of the kiss, she didn't feel the least bit frightened. Confused? Hell, yes, but not frightened. After all, this was Lee.

Kara totally lost track of time. He didn't really try to go further than that kiss, although it was deep enough on a lot of levels that he didn't have to. His right arm stayed around her back, tucking her close to his body, while his left supported most of his weight so she didn't get crushed or have to wonder about breathing. His kiss was mobile, always changing and surprising her. Sometimes it was gentle pecks, sometimes deep and consuming, and sometimes just the gentlest tracing of his tongue over and around hers. As much as she hated it, she didn't really mind him taking control for this one time. She was enjoying the journey, even though she had no clue what the destination might be. She kissed him back, followed his lead, and without even realizing it, the anger and resentment that had built in the last week proceeded to drain completely from her. There was no room in this kiss for anger.

After a long time — a very long time — Lee raised his head and rested his forehead against hers. His breathing was shallow and uneven, and his eyes were firmly closed. The expression on his face was bordering somewhere between pain and relief; she didn't know which way it was going topple. Finally, after more than two or three minutes of his silence, during which she managed to get her own breathing back under control, he opened his eyes to look at her.

She had never seen so much conflict, so much raw confusion, in her life. It looked like pain was definitely going to win out over relief, because his eyes were absolutely miserable. Despite her previous anger, and her banked irritation that he had cut her off in mid fight without even shedding a little blood as a courtesy, she had to be concerned. "Are you okay?" she asked softly. Her voice was hoarse. She didn't even know if he'd understand her.

"Not really," he admitted. "No."

She watched him for a few minutes longer, but he neither moved nor resumed kissing her. He just watched her. She did the same to him.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked.

She had to think about it. Emotionally, she was better than she'd expected. After the attack a couple of years back, she hadn't known if she'd ever be able to lay beneath a man without fear. But this was Lee, and she simply couldn't fear him. Physically, she was fine. She might have some slight bruising on her biceps due to his exceptionally strong grip — not that she'd given him much of a choice - but beyond that she seemed pretty much unscathed. She figured his shins would show the same colorful marks. Given the damage she'd set out to inflict, she decided that they'd both come out as well as could be expected. "I think so," she told him. "Do you want to tell me what just happened?"

He gave her a grin, but it lacked his usual sarcastic charm. "I was hoping you could tell me," he admitted.

"You've been deliberately avoiding me," she said, but her voice was calm and she thought her tone was quite reasonable. "I expect for you to tell me why."

He didn't deny it, but instead nodded. "I have been. I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fix it," she reminded him. "But a reason would help. I've thought about it a lot, and I can't think of anything specific I've done. So if it isn't me, it has to be you. Right?"

"Right," he admitted softly. Very softly. His eyes weren't entirely focused, and as she watched they seemed to cloud over as his head dropped back down and he kissed her again. It wasn't as urgent — more a confirmation that the original kiss had happened than anything else — and she couldn't find it in her to mind. She hadn't had a clue how good it would feel to kiss Lee. It wasn't just lips either, but all of him. His body moved gently against hers, shifting his weight and starting a tingle that began in her stomach and seemed to radiate outwards. When he lifted his head, she thought it was entirely too soon.

"So," she began, then had to clear her throat to make the word audible. "So, what's the problem?"

He looked at her again with that same distracted expression, and then smiled. "This is pretty much it," he admitted. "Or at least, not this."

"And this makes sense how?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"Nothing's really making much sense," he said gently. "And that's most of the problem. I figured that if I could just steer clear of you for a while, this would ease up." He shrugged one shoulder and gave another grin that didn't reach his eyes. "It didn't."

"What wouldn't ease up?"

At that, he sighed, but it wasn't the contented murmur it had been when he'd been kissing her. It was a frustrated sound, irritated and confused and actually rather disturbing in its own way. "This," he clarified.

At first she didn't understand. His expression hadn't changed much, and he hadn't said anything. He had just shifted his weight. Then the significance hit her, and she had to use all her energy not to blush. It had been a lot of years, but the pressure against her left thigh was unmistakable as he pressed his groin against her, even through the material of his duty uniform and her thicker flight suit. So that was the problem. She'd always been told that men thought with their Well, she'd never before seen such a blatant case of purely southern thinking.

"And that's a problem?" she asked.

"At the moment, it's a big one," he admitted, and then his blush surpassed hers as the double meaning of those words sunk in.

She had to smile. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," she muttered, her face so hot that she knew it must be glowing.

He rolled to the side and off her, and she didn't know whether to be relieved or not. "I meant the problem," he clarified as he gently smacked her in the arm. She winced a little — it was very close to where he'd grabbed her — and he pulled back. "You okay?"

"A little bruised," she admitted. "Trust me, it's a hell of a lot less than I was planning to do to you." She shook her head, still not beyond the confusion over why this was a problem. It wasn't as though he had never kissed her before. If that was what he'd wanted, then hell: she was right here!

"I guess I gave you reason," he admitted as he sat up on the edge of the bed. He reached down and rubbed one hand along his shin. "I'd say you did some damage too, though. I won't be in shorts for a while."

"I tried just asking," she reminded him. "But I couldn't get you to stay in the same room with me for five minutes."

"Every time I tried, this happened," he remarked, gesturing to his lower body, which was still showing evidence of significant arousal and recent denial. He looked miserable.

"Is it something I did?" she asked in confusion. She was pretty comfortable running around in next to nothing around him, but it was just because she'd always done so. Well, that and several years spent in co-ed quarters, both in the Academy and at college. It had never seemed to bother any of the guys, and frankly she kept better coverage than most of the girls. She also didn't have quite as much to show off as they did.

"Not something you did," he explained cryptically. "It's just you. Somewhere along the line, the way I saw you started to change, and I can't get it switched back."

Kara looked at him carefully for a moment. He still looked miserable. He had stood and moved away from the bed, although he was turned to look at her. He was leaning back up against the lockers, one knee bent and foot resting on the metal. It should have been a relaxed position, but she could tell it wasn't. She sat up, then scooted back up on the bed to cross her legs before her. "Okay," she began, managing this the same way she would any other difficulty she'd run across: head on. "Let's break this down. First, I like you. Second, you like me." 

She turned to see if he was paying attention. His eyes were closed as he leaned against the locker, but at least he wasn't arguing. "Three," she continued. "We get along pretty well most of the time. Four, I like your family, and you don't have mine to deal with. Five, we've been sleeping in the same bed for the last six months. Lee, as far as I see it, this isn't adding up to a problem here. What am I missing?"

"Sex screws things up, Kara," Lee told her with a sigh.

"Yeah, well you're pretty screwed up now," she countered.

"I've never had a single relationship that ended in sex go further than that," he admitted softly. "It's awkward, and uncomfortable, and I don't want to feel that way about you."

"Isn't that how you're feeling now?"

He finally looked her in the eye. "I don't want to lose you," he said carefully. "Not to sex, and not to arguments. You're the only thing I really have left that I haven't messed up or lost to the war." He took a deep breath, let it out, and then walked over to sit next to her on the bed. "But I can't seem to think of you as one of the guys anymore. I don't know what to do."

Kara leaned her head over and rested it on her shoulder. She wasn't really trying to make things more difficult for him — she realized that he was truly upset about this. Still, touching him had become pretty natural over the past years, and it wasn't something she consciously thought about. "You won't lose me," she told him. "Either way. As pitiful as it sounds, I'll take you however I can get you."

"Thanks," he commented dryly, absently elbowing her in the arm.

"Ow!"

"What?" he asked, turning to look at her.

"You've got a grip," she said dryly, rubbing the arm that he had just hit.

"That bad?" he asked in concern.

"I'll live," she remarked. She had already told him that she was probably bruised. "But it's a little sore."

"Let me see," he told her. It wasn't a question.

"The conversation we just had, and now you want my shirt off?" she asked with a grin. "Talk about not making up your mind."

"Cute," he fired back. "Now off."

She didn't seem to have much choice in the matter. He had already popped the buckle on the pressure belt of the flight suit, and one hand was on its way to the zipper. "Hang on," she told him with a quick slap. "I know how to undress myself."

"Then do it," he advised. The look on his face didn't allow for any arguments.

She slipped the zipper down, then eased the top of her flight suit down sore arms. He really couldn't see anything — two regulation undershirts saw to that — but given their previous clinch she was still a little uncomfortable. He'd been right about that much at least; thinking about him that way changed things.

"Shit," he said softly, tracing blue marks gently with a finger. "That looks bad."

She tried to shrug off his concern, but her arms did hurt. They just might be swelling a little, too. "You didn't have much of a choice," she reassured him. "If it had been anyone else, we'd be dealing with a broken jaw now, and I don't mean mine. I wasn't holding anything back when I came in. Thankfully, we've been beating on one another long enough that you knew how to block me."

"Somehow, that doesn't make me feel any better," he said bitterly. "This is a hell of a lot worse than my shins, and you had boots on."

"Still do," she assured him. "So drop it, or I'll kick you again. It isn't the first time we've marked one another up." With a grin, she added, "And I doubt it will be the last."

He had to smile at that. She'd known he would. "I'm sorry," he told her honestly. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Hell, I know that," she told him with a wide smile. "I can't say the same, though. I spent at least four hours of my patrol thinking of ways to take you apart."

"Thank the Lords it wasn't a long patrol," he remarked dryly, but his smile was still in place.

They sat there for a few moments in silence, leaning against one another, but otherwise not touching. Kara was just glad to have some of the peace restored between them. Lee's presence was comforting to her — it always had been — and it was something she had desperately missed. She had known that his absence annoyed her, but she hadn't realized how much it had messed with her equilibrium. She knew the knowledge should bother her. She supposed on some level it did. She didn't like relying on anyone else for her own happiness.

"Kara?"

"Hmm?" she asked, still staring off into space and really not thinking about much of anything. The patrol had worn her out. The fight had exhausted her. Emotions were a pain in the ass.

"I didn't scare you, did I?" he asked softly.

"Scare me?"

"When I pinned you," he clarified. "I mean, after"

She shook her head adamantly. "I wasn't afraid of you," she reassured him. "I was too pissed to be scared. Besides, I know you. You might leave a couple of bruises, but you wouldn't really hurt me. I don't think you'd hurt anyone. It just isn't in you. I half-expected you to fight back, anyway. I wasn't surprised, so I really didn't get scared. Well, not after we hit the bed," she told him with a grin. "I was a little nervous when I thought we were going to hit the floor. You're damned heavy."

"Am not," he argued, but she could hear the relief in his voice. 

He did have some reason for concern. She still startled pretty easily if he came up behind her in the dark, and especially when she was running. The assault had left a few permanent scars, but she was getting past them. It was slow, and she had to credit lee with the patience of a saint when she blew up at him, but gradually she was working past it. Leave it to him to worry about her feelings when she'd been the one to attack him.

"Need some ice for your arms?" he asked softly. Guilt: she could hear it in his voice.

"Do you need it for your legs?" she fired back with a glare.

His smile went ear to ear, and for the first time in weeks she actually saw dimples. It brought home more than anything else just how tense he'd been about this situation. She still didn't understand that. He'd known her almost all his life; she'd think he could just talk to her about this. "Actually, yeah," he admitted. "I'll grab some extra for you."

"I'll catch a shower," she told him, finally standing up and moving away. "I promise to be fully dressed when you return."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Not going to let me live this down, are you?" he asked on a sigh.

"Nope."

"Figures," he muttered, and then walked out the hatch.

Kara took her time with the shower, knowing that it would take Lee quite a while to get his hands on ice. It wasn't all that common on the Galactica, and the kitchens were two decks down. She washed her hair, let the cool water flow over arms that were really starting to ache, and then dried herself off with a towel. She slipped on her underclothes, and the duty uniform she'd left sitting on the sink so that she could keep her promise to him, and then exited the tiny bathroom. Lee still wasn't back.

Lying down on the bed, she tried to run through all of it in her mind. It still didn't make a whole lot of sense to her. Zak had never acted like an idiot when he'd been interested, and while Lee wasn't a whole lot like his brother, she was having a hard time seeing the big deal. If Lee wanted to get closer, why the hell not just tell her? If she'd said no, he wouldn't be any worse off than he already was. And if she said yes, then his problem was solved. Avoiding it just didn't make sense to her.

She decided it must just be his nature. He wasn't big on conflict. He could argue with the best of them, but only when pushed to it. He could hold a grudge forever, but he did so with a stoic silence that grated on the nerves rather than initiating an assault. He was just a diplomat at heart, trying to make everything level out. That was how he kept her balanced. Her own personality was volatile — as she'd proved this afternoon — and it did her good to have someone keep her thinking.

What she didn't know was how she was going to manage when that one person that made her think had stopped doing so himself. In the end, she decided that it really didn't matter. If he didn't get himself together, she'd just hit him again; or at least try. She hadn't had so much fun in ages. 

Kara then fell asleep, with a smile on her face.


	6. Reprieve

Chapter 6

Something was seriously wrong with his children, William Adama thought with a humorous concern. Concern because he loved both of them, and humor because he knew them too well to really worry.

For the last week, neither Lee nor Kara had been found in the same location at the same time. It wasn't a completely unusual situation to find them apart, but to never see them together was damned strange. The two had been inseparable as children, their friendship and reliance had continued when they'd joined the academy together, and since the beginning of the war they had once more become fast friends.

Knowing his son as he did, Lee was probably initiating the situation. It was simply the way the younger man managed disagreements. He ignored them. It was often useful in command — and Adama did much the same thing himself when matters were not affecting jobs — but it was destructive in families. He had been on the receiving end of his son's planned ignoring once or twice along the way, and it wasn't a good place to be. There was little worse in this life than wanting to make something right, and not being allowed to do so.

So he had tried to talk to his son. It was a tricky proposition. To begin with, their own family ties were still tenuous following years of mistrust, misunderstanding, and pure anger. There had been a lot of pain in that time as well, and not all of it was gone. The last thing William wanted to do was damage the fragile trust that was building between him and his eldest son. The second issue was his son's basic nature; he was a contrary boy. William swore it came from his mother, but Lee was one that would do exactly the opposite of what he was told just to prove it could be done. Normally the defiance was in small rebellions, but they were there just the same. He hadn't wanted to order Lee to work things out with Kara because it would have most likely ensured that he never spoke to her again.

Was it an exaggeration? Probably. But it was a risk he wasn't willing to take, either as a father or a Commander. So he had kept his words general, and his recommendations minimal. He was hoping for the best.

Unfortunately, hoping wasn't often enough in the real world. He'd received a call an hour before from one of his mechanics, and the young woman had been very concerned about Lieutenant Thrace's state of mind following her routine patrol. Cally hadn't been sure if it was something on ship or off, but she had wanted the Commander to know that she was worried.

The call had been both reassuring and a concern. His concern was obviously for the situation, but there was a certain pride that his crew specialist would come to him directly rather than routing the problem through what would usually be considered an appropriate chain of command. As the problem might be personal, and it was general knowledge that Lieutenant Thrace and Commander Adama had a personal tie beyond their professional ones, Cally had felt free to come to him. Most Commanders didn't have that kind of trust from their crew. He was absurdly grateful that he did.

On the other hand, most Commanders didn't have their personal ties well known by crew members. There was a certain distance that command required — a setting of one's self apart from the lower ranks — that William Adama purely hated. He had hated it as a cadet, and he hated it more now. There was a time and place for rank, and he both knew and respected certain military traditions, but there were also times that regulations did nothing but get in the way. It had been the case when one of his best pilots had been up on charges for hitting someone who richly deserved it, and it had been the case when his own son hadn't been able to have his orders followed by the President, even to avert catastrophe. Rank gave one status in the military, but Adama knew that no rank was high enough to make a person right all the time.

He had been sure to relay that message to his crew in the last couple of years. He let them know that he was in command, but also that their opinions were not only valued but necessary. He couldn't run this ship alone, and he sure as hell couldn't keep the fleet together without their help.

So their help they gave, in great ways and smaller ones. Cally's call had been one more small way that his crew was holding itself together. He wouldn't ignore her concerns.

Earlier, he had worried about his son, but now he was just as worried about Kara. It was a father's right to care about his children, and while Kara might not be related by blood, she had nearly been so by marriage and would always be so in spirit. He had already tried to get through to his son with little success. Now, he would try a back door and see where he could get with Starbuck.

It had been more than an hour since Cally's frantic call to him on the bridge. He had taken his time getting down here for a couple of reasons. The first was a lesson that he'd learned in a brief stint as a security enforcer towards the beginning of his military career: never rush to the site of a domestic disturbance. It was a damn fine way to make matters worse. How many times in those early days had he received a call and eagerly jumped in before knowing the situation? He had made more than one situation worse by butting in before the people involved were ready. Finally he had learned to take a call, judge whether there was an immediate danger to life or limb, and then grab a cup of coffee on his way to the scene. Normally by the time he got there the couples had hashed out the argument and were ready to fix the situation. Or at the very least he didn't have anything thrown at him when he'd arrived. He was following that same principle now. He had given Lee and Kara time to get through things, and if all was quiet at their door he would see what he could do to help.

Reaching Lee's office door, he knocked twice on the hatch. No sound came from inside, but a gut feeling told him that someone was there. He waited a moment more, then knocked a little harder. He could have just pushed the door open — there were no locks on the Galactica except for the brig and a few other high security areas — but it was something he would never do. With respect, locks weren't needed. He wouldn't violate that trust just because he had the rank to justify it.

He was getting ready to knock again when Kara eased the door open and peeked out. She smiled once she recognized him, and opened the hatch wide to allow him into the dim room. Dressed in tank tops and duty pants, her ruffled blond hair and droopy eyes told him that he'd most likely awakened her. He was sorry for that, but not that he'd found her alone. 

"What do you hear?" he asked her with a grin as she gestured to the seat at Lee's desk and flipped on the lights as she took her own place on the bed. She tugged her legs up and crossed them before her, sitting as she had when she'd been a little girl.

She didn't reply as she normally did, instead giving him a sheepish grin. "A knock at the door," she said in a wry tone. "What can I do for you?"

"Would you believe it's a social call?" he asked her skeptically. She raised her eyebrows at him, but didn't answer. "I didn't think so," he admitted. "I just came down to see how you are. There were a couple of reports that my best pilot was on her way to kill someone after she landed, and I needed to be sure that no funerals were in order."

He watched as her body relaxed partially. She still kept her hands on her arms as though she was cold, but her smile became more natural. "All's well," she admitted with the same sarcasm he was so used to hearing from her. "Nobody died."

"Why do I think that it wasn't lack of effort?" he asked her with a wink.

"Yeah, well, there were a couple of tense moments," she admitted. "But we got it sorted out. Mostly."

"Do I need to ask who you pounded on?" he pressed gently. "Or will I be hearing charges in the morning?"

"If he files charges I'll kick him again," she told him without much humor. "And I don't think you need to ask who."

"Send him to the sick bay?" Adama asked casually. He had picked both Lee and Kara up and dusted them off after more than one squabble when they'd been little. While he hadn't intended a fist-fight when he'd spoken to his son, he couldn't argue with what worked for them. At the moment, he was planning on being a father rather than a commander, so he wasn't going to start placing blame.

"He went to get some ice," she admitted as she lowered her hands. Clear hand-prints were visible in a dark blue that was darkening rapidly to black. Her arms were going to be sore. He had to squelch a burst of anger that his son would hurt a woman, but he managed because he knew that Kara had probably started it. Lee wasn't one to begin a brawl if he could get out of it.

"How bad off is he?" he asked with some concern.

"About the same," she admitted with a grin. "I won't be wearing tanks, but he won't be wearing shorts."

William shook his head. He didn't know whether to send them both to the brig or laugh. He decided to do neither. "Did it solve anything?" he asked.

"We're talking," she admitted with a wink. "That's better than it was this morning."

He finally laughed, because if she could find humor in the situation and manage it without anger, he knew he could do no less. "Never have known what to do with the two of you," he muttered under his breath. Her smile told him that she'd heard him anyway. "Is there anything I can do?"

She shook her head. "We'll hash it out," she explained. "It's mostly a communication problem. Now that he's talking, we'll get it sorted out."

"I wonder if I should have tried hitting him," the Commander said dryly. It hadn't ever really entered his mind before, but in retrospect it might have been more effective than waiting on his son's forgiveness.

"I have to say that I don't recommend it," she remarked.

As they laughed gently about the situation, the door to their side opened and Lee stepped in carrying a fairly large and lumpy bag. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw his father, but he didn't really remark. William watched a measure of guilt enter his expression as he handed the bag to Kara.

"Hi, Dad," he said quietly, and then to Kara, "I'll get a towel for you."

She nodded as Lee turned and walked into the small bathroom and disappeared. When the Commander looked over at Kara he saw an almost challenging expression there, and he decided that this was not the time to reprimand his son for fighting with women. Although he felt it would be his duty to express the sentiment at some point. He had never consented to letting his children fight physically among themselves or with others, and he certainly wouldn't have tolerated his CAG hitting one of his troops under other circumstances. Still, Kara wasn't going to be pressing any charges, and she had already assumed a good deal of the responsibility, so he didn't see a reason to press the matter now.

Lee reentered the room with three towels, then filled each to bulging with the ice. He handed two to Kara and took a seat next to her on the bed. Kara crossed her arms, placing the towels on the black and blue marks that her arms carried, and Lee pulled one leg up onto the bed to put his own towel against his shin. There were times that William truly wanted to utilize a command authority and ask what the hell was going on, but those situations were to be selected carefully. While his curiosity was killing him, he didn't want to inadvertently find out something that he would have to officially discipline.

"Who won?" he eventually questioned as the two of them sat there in silence, offering no explanation to their bumps and bruises. At the very least there were no split lips or broken limbs to manage. This time.

Lee looked at Kara and winced. She looked back at him and smiled. "I think it was a draw," he offered.

"Is it going to happen again?" Adama asked pointedly.

Once more the two exchanged a look. "No, Sir," Kara told him quietly.

"That's something," the Commander muttered. "Do I need to send either one of you up to Salik?"

"No sir," Lee answered.

"And do I need to move either one of you out?"

Lee and Kara shared another look, and he would have given a year's pay to know exactly what had transpired in the time between Cally's call and his own arrival. "I don't think so," Lee answered, but his features were a long way from certain. They cleared somewhat when Kara let out a sigh that could only be relief. What the hell had gone on here?

"Just so you know," the Commander told them earnestly, facing his son as he did so. "I'm here because I received a concerned call from a crew member regarding unusual behavior. Whatever is going on here, whether it affects your duties or not, is starting to show to the crew. I expect you both to conduct yourselves professionally outside of this room. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Sir," they answered him in unison.

And as for whatever else is happening here," he continued. "I really don't want to have to pull either of you off duty for either injuries or assault charges. You aren't any good to me in the brig."

"Yes, Sir." This time it was Kara's voice alone. He turned his gaze to his son, and finally received a nod from the younger man. It was probably the best he was going to do without making this official.

"Then I'll get out of your way," he informed them, standing to go. Lee looked like he was going to rise as well — manners ingrained by his mother — but Adama just shook his head. "Keep the ice on it," he recommended. "I think that's blood."

He watched as Lee looked down to see the slight dark stain below where the towel rested on his shin. Lee's eyes widened, and it was all the older man could do to leave the room without breaking into laughter.

But he couldn't allow it. It was bad enough that he was going to turn a blind eye to a clear fight between his CAG and a pilot, but to laugh about it was almost as bad as condoning the behavior. He had to maintain some sense of order, otherwise the rest of his crew would lose respect for any form of discipline. So he didn't laugh. He smiled a bit, but he didn't laugh.

Kara watched as Lee checked his leg. Sure enough, she'd kicked hard enough to break the skin in a couple of places. She was really fighting with the guilt, but the discomfort in her upper arms was enough to keep it within reason. He had given as good as he had gotten.

"So what now?" she asked him softly. It was refreshing to know that neither of them were headed to the brig, but it didn't solve the more immediate problem of their difficulty.

"Hell if I know," he replied with a grin. 

"This isn't helping," she reminded him. "I appreciate that you told me the problem, but if we don't work out a solution then we're no better off than before. We're in the same room, but we're about ten miles apart. Talk to me."

"I don't know what to say," he admitted. Then he finally met her eyes. He looked as confused and frustrated as he had before. At the very least she now knew the reason for the frustration. "What do you want to do about it?"

"Look," she began. "I'm not opposed to well, you know getting closer. But I think we're jumping the gun a little bit. You can't go from friends to you know, just like that. I mean, I guess some people can, but I'm not one of them. Let's think about it. If you hadn't known me forever, and if I wasn't living in your room, then what would be your next logical step?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Probably a date," he admitted reluctantly. "Although that's not much of a possibility on board. God, I don't know! Do you have any clue how long it's been since I had to think about this stuff? I wasn't even good at it when I was in practice."

"I don't know," she argued. "You seemed to have enough girls around when we were at the academy. You were always going out somewhere."

"Most were friends," he said in a sheepish voice. "Some were even students that just needed help on homework. Mostly I stayed clear to give you and Zak some time together."

Zak. She had known it would come back around to him at some point. "Is that a problem?" she asked him softly. She couldn't quite meet his eyes as she asked; she was too worried about his answer.

"Is it?" he asked her right back. The man should be a psychiatrist; always answering a question with a question.

"Not for me," she admitted. "What about for you."

His brow furrowed for a moment. "Can I ask you something?"

She didn't like his tone, but they were finally talking and she really didn't want to put a stop to it. She shifted the ice on her arms, grateful that the pain had dropped to a dull throb, and considered a moment. "As long as I'm allowed to be honest when I answer," she decided. "I'm tired of trying to figure out what you want to hear. I think it's time we went for the truth."

He nodded in agreement. "Fair enough."

He was silent for a long time. So long, in fact, that she wasn't sure he was going to ask anything after all. Maybe he wasn't as ready for honesty as she was. Or maybe he knew what the answer to his question was going to be, and he didn't want to hear it. Maybe he was just as scared as she was. It struck her in an odd way — the thought of Lee scared — because he didn't scare easily. "You loved him, right?" he asked.

"Yeah. I still do, but not the same way. It's not something you can turn off."

Lee nodded; she was sure he felt the same way about Zak. The two had been close — very close — and Lee had taken his death harder than just about anyone. "Do you think about him?" he asked softly.

Honesty. Damn, this was hard. "Not very often," she admitted sheepishly. "It's harder to remember him than it used to be. I mean, that's a good thing because it doesn't hurt so much, but some days it bothers me. I don't remember what he sounded like," she admitted, again avoiding Lee's gaze. "Sometimes I feel like none of it ever happened. I kind of have to remind myself."

Lee nodded, but didn't remark.

With a sigh, Kara stood and set the towels full of ice on the edge of Lee's desk. She would have left them on the bed, but she didn't want to sleep in a wet bed — assuming she slept there at all tonight. "Come here," she requested.

Lee followed her slowly, beginning to limp a little. She squashed another stab of guilt; at least she hadn't drawn blood. But she led him over to her locker. Opening the door, she pointed to a picture of him tucked into the left side of her locker. It showed him standing with his flight helmet beneath one arm. He wasn't smiling, but he didn't look upset either. The Caprican hillside behind him was lush and green. 

"Cute," he remarked with a grin. "But I didn't know you needed a picture. I could have found you a better one to keep."

She shook her head, reaching for the picture. "I keep it here so I can see it every day," she admitted. "It helps on the days you aren't around very much, or when you're on patrol. Besides, you're pretty easy to look at."

He grinned, but didn't offer anything else. He must have known she wasn't finished. With a deep breath, she grabbed the picture and pulled it from its place, carefully unfolding it to reveal what was on the right-hand side. She and Zak stood in one another's arms, her head ducked shyly down against his chest. Zak's expression was both excited and happy. It had been one of his first days at the academy, and he hadn't yet been buried in work or worried about flying. 

She remembered vividly the day that Adama had taken the picture, joking them about looking like triplets in their military issue uniform pants and tank tops. Initially the photo was just to be of Lee and Zak, but she had walked too close and Zak had pulled her in. Lee had been stunned initially, and that was when the picture had been snapped. There had been a few others taken afterwards, some with just her and Zak, and some of just the two brothers, but this was the one Adama had kept with him.

He had later given her the picture after a particularly bad night in which she had gotten absolutely plastered and cried all over him. She hadn't remembered what Zak looked like, and it had torn her apart. Kara had never been one to keep pictures around, always preferring to live in the present, but she had taken this one gratefully. She had folded it carefully — not willing to look at Lee because she had been furious about his treatment of his father — and tucking it into her locker where she could see Zak each day. She might not remember his voice, or what he felt like in her arms, but at least she could see him. At least she could know that she hadn't dreamed it all.

She had opened the picture up when she had thought she'd lost Lee. She had been reminded then of just how fragile life could be, and how important he had been in her life. After she'd learned the truth, she had left the picture open so that she could remember an easier time — a better time. Just a few months ago, she had folded the picture once more and tucked it in with only Lee visible. She had just moved in with him, and she wasn't sure how he'd feel about finding a picture of Zak in her locker, especially the way they'd been holding one another. At the time, Lee had still been fairly affectionate, and she hadn't wanted to put an end to it.

"I remember that day," Lee said softly, breaking into Kara's thoughts. "Dad came up to see Zak and caught us all in between classes. I'd forgotten about it."

"Your dad gave it to me," she said softly. "He gave it to me because I couldn't even remember what Zak looked like. It hadn't even been a year since we'd lost him, and already he was so faded to me that I couldn't picture him."

"I'm sorry."

Kara shrugged one shoulder. It wasn't as sore a point now as it had once been. Over the years, she'd realized that a lot of memories faded. The best and worst remained, and she could choose how much of each she wanted to dwell on. Mostly, she chose the good ones. "I used to keep it up so I'd remember Zak," she told him softly, then turned to face him. "Now I keep it up so I can look at you. I always know Zak's there — I just have to turn over the picture — but I usually don't. It's not that he isn't important to me," she added quickly. "It's just that I don't need him anymore. Does that make any sense?"

Lee looked at the photo for a moment, then reached for it with a question in his eyes. She released it into his hand, then waited and watched. She didn't know what reaction she had expected, but this somber consideration certainly wasn't it. 

"I'd forgotten how excited he was," Lee said softly.

"All he wanted was to fly," Kara told him with a soft smile. "I don't think he was ever as happy as he was at the academy."

Lee nodded. "You made a good couple," he added. "Light and dark, tall and short. You balanced one another out."

She nodded, not knowing where he was going with this.

"I'm not a thing like him," he told her softly, moving his eyes from the photo to meet her gaze. "I'm really not. You know that, don't you?"

She had to grin; talk about stating the obvious. "You aren't supposed to be," she told him firmly.

"But how could you?" He stopped a moment, and seemed to try to gather his thoughts. "You loved him, and I'm nothing like him," he finally said. "I don't see how"

"How I could fall in love with you?" she asked him softly.

He nodded, then handed her back the picture. She folded it gently, tucking it back into the left side of her locker, then closing the locker door quietly. 

"Beats me," she admitted with a partial grin. "I sure as hell didn't plan it. It just sort of happened. Maybe it's because you don't take anything from me," she mused. "Or because you talk to me instead of making everything into a joke. Sometimes you're a little too serious, but I can live with that."

"And it doesn't bother you?"

She shook her head. "Not like you mean," she replied. "I still miss Zak. I wish he'd lived long enough to grow old and have kids. But the thing is, when I think about Zak all grown up, I'm not there."

"Hmm?"

"I can imagine Zak older, but I can't imagine myself with an older Zak. That probably sounds stupid. But when I think about the future — about maybe having kids some day, or finding a place when this war is really over — I don't think about being with Zak. I think about being with you." She looked into Lee's eyes, wondering if he was getting the message. "Can you understand that? I don't dream about Zak. I dream about you."

Lee reached out and took her in his arms, just holding her. It had been so long since she'd felt this comfort that it was all she could do to keep from breaking down. She had missed him — really missed him — and this was one of the things that she'd missed the most. She had always felt safe with Zak, but with Lee she felt protected. It was a subtle difference, but it was one she couldn't ignore.

"So what now?" he asked her again, his chin resting gently on the top of her head.

"I don't know," she told him again. "But I don't want to lose this. When I'm with you it feels right."

"So I guess we just go back to the beginning?" he asked.

"Maybe. And this time take it a little slower?"

"Slower, but steady," he replied. "I think I can handle that."

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat for a moment. "Just don't let go," she requested. "Ever."

She could hear the smile in his voice when he replied. "Not planning to."


	7. The Date

Chapter 7

There were times that Lee loved his work. And there were times he did not. This was one of the "not" times. 

He needed to talk to a friend. At the moment, he really didn't have one. It was impossible to be friends with the people that you supervised: that was a fact of basic management. It was easier to deal with in the military, because at least there was no question regarding who came where in the chain of command. It was all decided well above them.

But being made CAG had taken care of any possibility that Lee really had to make friends within his squadron. There was nothing more irritating than watching those you used to be one of cut you out. He had always been a pilot, always one of the guys, and now he was the boss. On the other hand, the fact that he'd never known these pilots in that close of a manner did make the situation tolerable. It wasn't as though he'd been exiled by his friends, but rather he hadn't been in their circle in the first place.

He had tried at first to at least join in conversations and make himself approachable, but it had caused more problems than it solved. He tried to be accessible now, as his father always was, but he no longer worried about making friends with the pilots. He had a few friends among the other supervisory staff, and he had Kara, who was a pain in the ass to supervise. He would get by.

Kara. Just the thought had the power to bring a smile to his face. Well, today it did. He was well rested, relaxed, and ready to get things done.

He'd spent the night before in some of the best sleep he'd ever gotten. It had been his night off duty, so rather than trying to keep his sleep schedule regular to working late watch, he had laid down with her at bedtime. He'd just been too tired to stay up any longer anyway. She had a better understanding now of why he'd kept his distance before, so he no longer really had to hide anything. She had actually been pretty accommodating given the circumstances. He'd turned his back to her, and she'd slipped up behind him. The result had been inevitable, but in that position he didn't have to worry about her figuring out what was going on. Even if she had known, it wasn't anything new. He had just enjoyed the welcome company, and finally had a good night's sleep. He would regret it when he had to work tomorrow night and he couldn't get to sleep later today, but it had been worth it.

As it turned out, the primary block to restful nights had been more his own worry than true arousal. And now that he had found a key to the former, he was determined to come up with a solution to the latter.

But he hadn't been kidding when he'd told her that he didn't know where to start. The Galactica wasn't known for its dance clubs or movie theaters. The usual recreational activities simply didn't exist. How was he supposed to go back to old fashioned courting when there was nothing old fashioned left? He decided the solution would have to be creative.

And the last thing he could do was ask the other pilots. It was irritating, but as much as he disliked it, he wasn't in a place to sit in on their conversations or ask them about dating ideas. It was bad enough that he was interested in one of the pilots — talking about it would just set him up for people to complain about favoritism or harassment. So Lee did the next best thing. Rather than choosing to go to those below him, he went to someone who worked beside him.

Over the years, he and Chief Tyrol had developed a pretty fair working arrangement. They both had the same essential goal — keeping the spacecraft in the air — and each was responsible almost exclusively for his own men. Lee organized, scheduled, and rated the pilots. Tyrol did the same for his deck crew. While they were indeed separated by rank, their responsibilities were remarkably similar. It had been this connection that made Lee think of him when he'd needed ideas. After all, Tyrol was in a permanent, successful relationship. He was just likely to have some ideas for what to do during the early days of such a relationship. He also knew from the occasional scuttlebutt that Sharon and Tyrol had been an item long before they had gone public with that information, so he thought that the Chief might also be able to address some of those concerns.

He found the Chief looking over one of his newer crewmen, and not looking happy about what he saw.

"You're going to have to put your arm behind it," he told the young woman. "You don't have the arm strength, so you have to use leverage."

"But it won't budge," she complained in what Lee thought was a really whiney voice.

"That's a good thing," Tyrol returned. "You don't want it spinning lose when this Viper is at mach two. They have to be tight. Now move your arm up there and use your back a little. That's right no, above the wrench" Tyrol looked like he was ready to take the wrench to the new ensign, but it was all Lee could do not to laugh.

"I can't do this," the girl whined again. Lords, she couldn't be more then eighteen or nineteen. What was she doing trying to become a mechanic?

"If Cally can get these loose, than you can," he told her firmly. "When things are rolling, I don't have time to pick and choose who does what. If you're there, you'll need to do it."

"But I can't."

Tyrol took a long breath, letting it out very slowly. "Tell you what. I'll give you a few minutes to work on it without me looking over your shoulder. If you get it, let me know. If you don't, then go hang up you uniform and report to Cally for reassignment. I don't have time to listen to what you can't' do."

The Chief turned around to leave, and caught sight of Apollo standing there. He looked a little chagrined for a moment, but then the command mask fell into place, as though to challenge Lee to question how he managed his crew. Lee had no such intention.

"Can I have a word with you, Chief?"

Tyrol gave a quick nod, looked back to see the girl still battling with a wrench as long as her arm and a bolt that might well be stripped. He walked towards Lee and followed him a good distance from Viper. "Look, Sir," the Chief began. "I know it seems a little harsh, but"

"Actually, you were quite a bit more patient than I would have been," Lee told him with a grin. "You sure she's old enough to be in uniform?"

Tyrol sighed, but it sounded like relief as much as anything. "They're all like that when they start. I can remember when Cally wasn't up for anything more than mopping decks and cleaning canopies. They either grow into the job or they don't. I don't know what I would have done to her if Prosna hadn't" The Chief's voice trailed off.

"I've heard good things about him," Lee said carefully. "He was lost in the fire, right?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Well, maybe you could assign Cally to this one. If she's been through it, then she might know how to get this kid together."

"Actually, that's what I was planning," Tyrol said with a smile. "Although I don't know if Cally will be as patient as I've been. The kid really may not make it."

"Well, you'll manage it," Lee said with confidence. "You always do. That's kind of why I'm here."

"Sir?"

"I need some personal advice," he admitted reluctantly. "And I thought you might have some ideas for me."

"Personal?"

Lee gave a sigh. "If you were going to try to get to know someone romantically how would you go about it?"

The Chief looked at him for a long, considering moment. "First I'd be sure it was off ship, and away from Lieutenant Thrace. If she finds out, she's liable to kill you."

Lee smiled at that. "I was kind of planning to take her along," he responded.

It took a moment for that to register. "Oh," he said, confused. Then, "oh, I see. But I thought you already"

"Not exactly," Lee admitted. He didn't like talking about his relationships with anyone, least of all people he both liked and respected. It made him feel terribly inept. "We're good friends," he finally admitted. "And we might like to see how much further it can go, but I haven't thought about things like this in years, and it's not like there's a soda shop down the road where everyone meets."

"You realize that if you two start dating, it's gonna be the talk of the ship," Tyrol informed him. "Most folks think you're already a couple, just not real public about it."

"They can talk about what they want," Lee told him. "But right now there's nothing to talk about. Any ideas?"

Tyrol thought about it for a moment. "Well, when Sharon and I started out, it was mostly quick trips to the equipment closets," he admitted wryly. "After the war started, I had Boxey so they put me in family quarters. It was still a lot of sneaking around between shifts. Some of it was fun, but mostly just a minute here and a minute there."

"So you didn't ever do anything really special. Go anywhere or do anything like a date?"

He thought about it. Actually, no. Like you said, there's really no place around. Before we were legal, so to speak, we found anyplace that wasn't busy. Afterwards, there was my quarters. We usually ate there too because the she wasn't that comfortable in the enlisted mess, and I wasn't welcome in the officer's."

Lee thought about that for a moment, frowning. "I hadn't thought about that," he admitted. "What about after you got married?"

Tyrol shrugged and gave a grin. "She's an enlisted wife, whether she's an officer or not. She still doesn't feel all that comfortable about it, though. Technically, I'm an officer's husband, but I'm not all that happy in the officer's mess. It isn't that we can't cross those lines, but it's not as easy as we'd like it to be."

"I always thought of us as one crew," Lee mused. 

"That's because you're in command," the Chief explained. "You can go where you want.

Lee raised an eyebrow at the older man. "You command more people than I do," he reminded him.

A large clank was heard from behind them, and then the soft crying of Tyrol's newest rookie. "Don't remind me," he muttered. "Hey, you heading back to the ready room?"

"I could be," Lee said.

"See if Cally's there," he requested. "Otherwise I may strangle this kid."

"I can do that," he told him with a grin.

"Oh, and have her bring the first aid kit," he requested. "If I know the sound of that wrench, we've got some knuckles to bandage."

"I'll take care of it," Lee promised. "And thanks."

"I wasn't all that helpful," the Chief told him with a wink.

"You listened," Lee said. "Sometimes that's help enough."

Tyrol just shrugged, then headed back towards his reluctant troop. Lee had to smile. Training the new ones wasn't easy. He tended to relegate that job to Kara, as she actually had more patience than he did. It was surprising, given her notorious temper, but with the kids she was pretty good. Then he listened to his own inner thoughts and had to grimace. He must be getting old, he thought, when officers in their twenties really seemed like kids.

It hadn't been easy, but Lee thought he'd finally gotten things set. His discussion with Tyrol had brought up one thought he hadn't considered: the officer's mess. Yes, there was a main dining facility with about a hundred chairs along five tables, but there were also smaller rooms back beside the kitchen. They hadn't been used in ages, and were now primarily storage areas, but a couple of hours with a hand-truck had taken care of that. It had taken a week, a good deal of sweet-talking, and more promises than he really thought he could sleep. He now had a private room, a single table, and had even scrounged a table cloth.

He also had friends who had friends. The chef had promised something really special, and one of the ladies that his father had met in hydroponics had provided a small vase of flowers. There was no alcohol available, but even without wine or mixed drinks, it looked like a pretty classy setup. He could only hope that Kara appreciated his efforts.

But with her it was hard to know. She had taken his request to meet her for dinner with a bland glare. Okay, so she'd just come off duty and managed to get out of her flight suit, but this was important. After pleading for ten minutes — something he purely wasn't good at — she had consented to shower, dress comfortably, and come down to the officer's mess. She should be there any minute.

Lee looked at his watch again. How long did it take a woman to get ready, anyway? He'd asked her to come down an hour ago, and he was still hanging out in the doorway trying to catch her. Just about the time he was ready to give up and head back to the room to get her — or at least find out what was taking so long — he saw her come around the corner and into the dining hall.

She looked tired. Her hair was clean, but still wet and combed straight back out of her way. She was out of her flight suit, and down to a simple duty uniform of the twin tank tops and exercise pants. It wasn't exactly a romantic outfit, but he really didn't care. He was going to do his best to give her something special tonight, and if all went well maybe they'd be doing something more than sleeping when they made it back to quarters. Not that he was planning this just to get into her pants or anything, but he was too honest with himself to deny that the idea had some appeal.

"Kara?"

Her head turned towards his call, and she managed a tired smile. She also looked more than a little concerned as she walked towards him. He couldn't blame her. The far corner of the mess hall wasn't exactly a well-known hot spot.

"Feel better?" he asked with concern. She really did look tired.

"I've had better days," she admitted with a lopsided smile. "Still working on some of the new rooks. Most are doing okay, but some they're just not going to make it in Vipers."

"Then we move them to Raptors, or settle them on the bridge. We've already dispersed one group of inept pilots. I don't intend to replace them with more."

She nodded her agreement. "There's time," she admitted. "And at least it gets me in the air every day, although only for an hour or so."

"Then four hours of paper work," he commiserated.

"Exactly," she agreed, then seemed to finally look around. "What's the deal?"

He had been concerned enough that for a moment he'd forgotten his master plan. "Dinner," he told her, his former good humor returning. "For a lovely lady," he added. He couldn't keep his face straight, though.

"Right," she muttered, her smirk showing clearly as she peeked around him. The sarcastic expression faded to a simple smile as she took in the tiny table, two chairs, and little vase of flowers. "What's this?" she asked in confusion.

"The best I could do," he admitted sheepishly. "The Galactica is a little short on restaurants, but I figured after three years I owed you a real date.

The look on her face was somewhere between stunned and happy, but he took what he could get. He escorted her into the room, pulled out the chair for her to sit, and then slid her carefully up to the table before taking his own seat. "How am I doing so far?" he asked as he looked across the table at her.

"Pretty well," she admitted. "What's for dinner?"

"I have no idea," he said with a grin. "But Corey should be in before long."

As though on cue, Ensign Corey stepped into the room with a bottle of flavored water — Lee had better sense than to ask what it had been flavored with — and two glasses. He left the water for them, promising to return with something more substantial.

Lee picked up his glass and gestured for Kara to do the same. When she had, he made a quick toast. "To first dates," he told her with a wink.

"First dates," she echoed, and clinked her glass to his. 

The meal actually started out on a good note. Ensign Corey, a young crewman who owed Lee for a couple of shuttle fights to see relatives on another vessel of the fleet, was more than accommodating. The food was as good as it got on the Galactica, being an even day and allowing for true food rather than the synthetic variety.

But as the evening went on, Lee noticed that Kara's attention wasn't on romantic interludes, but rather the people who came and went from the dining hall tables. It wasn't an overt interest, but rather looking up and then away, and a studied effort not to comment.

"Problem?" he asked her, as her eyes widened and she ducked her head for the fifth time in as many minutes.

She gave a shrug. "Evans," she admitted. 

"And before that?"

"Hawk."

Lee wished that he'd chosen a room that hadn't had any view of the main hall, but at the time he'd been looking for the one with the least junk to move out and the easiest access for the people helping him.

"Embarrassed to be seen with me?" he asked her quietly. He wished he could meet her eyes to do it, but he was terrified of what he'd find there.

"No," she explained. "Just kind of embarrassed to be seen at all."

"Why?"

She gave another half-shrug and moved her meat around on her plate without really eating it. "I haven't been on a date in five years," she finally said. "And even when I was, I hadn't spent more time than not trying to convince the guys around me that I wasn't a girl. I mean, I am, but you know what I mean. I spent so much time trying to get them to look past it, that it's hard to make an issue of it now."

"I'd say they knew," he told her with a sigh.

"So I see." But she wasn't smiling, and she wasn't looking at him.

"Why am I starting to think this was a lousy idea?" he asked her.

She finally glanced up to meet his eyes, then once more looked away. "I'm really trying to switch gears, Lee. I swear. It's just not as easy as I thought it would be."

So much for romance. If she couldn't feel comfortable having a meal with him, the odds of her doing anything else in view of others were pretty slim. It wasn't that he'd been planning a make-out session in the hanger deck, but it did bother him that this was a problem for her. He was really proud to be seen with her — as dumb as it sounded — and it annoyed him to no end that she didn't feel the same about him. Suddenly a lot of the things that Tyrol had said were making a sick kind of sense. He'd thought the problem had just been a rank issue for the Chief, and that had been bad enough. But for some reason Kara seemed to be having the same discomfort, and she was just as much an officer as he was.

"You want to move out to the other tables?" he asked in a voice that he knew sounded sullen. He didn't want to whine, but he had tried so hard to make this special for her. He'd thought it would be what she wanted. Now he didn't know what the hell to do.

"I'm fine," she told him with a sigh. "I'm just tired, and way over-thinking things. Ignore me," she requested with half a smile.

Lee wasn't having any of it. "You're not even eating," he complained.

She sighed at that, loud and clearly annoyed. "Lee, I said I was tired. I'm sorry that bothers you, but there's nothing I can do about it. I've been on duty since early watch, and I'm just about wiped out."

He closed his eyes. He didn't want to fight with her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Do you want to go back to our room?"

"Your room," she clarified, but she did so almost absently.

"Our room," he insisted. "You've been there for six months. I think we can say that we share it by now."

"You are bound and determined to piss me off, aren't you?" she asked with a direct stare. It wasn't a loving gaze into his eyes like he had been hoping for earlier, but a clear challenge. He felt like he was the local dog, and this little stray was glaring him down. He wasn't going to be the first to blink.

"I just wanted to give you a real date," he explained, perhaps a little more loudly than he'd planned. "I wasn't aware that it was a crime. I thought it was what you'd want!"

"Why didn't you ask?" 

"Because" The problem was, he couldn't think of a single valid reason beyond just wanting to do it his way. It was irritating. "Forget it. Let's just go. It's not like you're eating it anyway."

He watched Kara take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Actually, he was pretty impressed that she was even trying to keep her temper in check. If he had thought about it, he would have realized just how hard she was really trying. But he wasn't ready to think. He was too busy being angry that he'd read her wrong. Again. As usual.

Lee didn't bother trying to finish the food on his own plate. To begin with, he hadn't really been tasting it, and beyond that he was just too annoyed. He didn't know what she wanted. He didn't know how to go about finding out. He might have asked, but she didn't seem to be ready to offer any suggestions. Finally, the glances from the pilots who really had never gotten along with him in the first place were starting to grate on his already jangled nerves. They kept looking over, and their gaze was almost accusatory. Most of them were friends with Kara. None of them were friends with him. No wonder they didn't look any happier than she did.

He took the napkin off his lap — another of the fancy touches he'd arranged — and tossed it on the table. "Do you want me to walk you back to the room, or would you rather go alone?" he asked bitterly.

"Now what are you mad about?"

"I'm not mad. Just tired like you. This was a bad idea."

She seemed to soften for a moment, her eyes finally meeting his in silent apology. "Not bad," she corrected. "Maybe badly timed."

"Whatever. Do you want me to walk you back or not?" He knew he was being rude. He knew it. He just didn't care. Nothing had worked out the way he had planned, and now he just wanted to put it all behind him.

"Go ahead," she told him softly. "I'll catch up."

"Fine," he muttered, standing up and leaving her there. He didn't even look behind to see if she was going to finish eating or follow. He had a lot to think about, but he didn't want to do it now. He didn't want to think about anything now. Thinking hadn't gotten him very far tonight, and he was sick of trying. He had a lot of people to thank, and a lot of favors to return, and the bottom line was that it had all been a stupid idea.

He didn't understand women, and at the moment he wasn't sure why he wanted to.


	8. Claustrophobia

Chapter 8

Kara rolled over in the cold, unfamiliar bed and stretched her body thoroughly. She hated sleeping alone, but the night before it had seemed the easiest way to manage. In the dim light of morning, here in the pilot's quarters, she realized that she hadn't really solved anything. In fact, she had very likely made things worse.

But at the time she just hadn't wanted to face him. She knew what he'd wanted to do. On a strictly female level she could even appreciate the sentiment if not the end result. But the way he had gotten so angry over a little basic fatigue had set her off.

She was annoyed enough with herself, because having her friends watch her eat with him had been so aggravating. It wasn't as though she and Lee hadn't eaten together most of the time. But doing so away from the rest had been like announcing that there was more than a friendship happening and while there was, she just didn't know if she wanted it to be common knowledge. Her feelings for Lee were still fairly new. She was just beginning to move from thinking of him as a friend to thinking of him as a man, and she wasn't ready to share that just yet. It was a little selfish, and she knew it wasn't fair to Lee, but in her own defense he'd had a lot more time to get used to the concept than she had. She just needed some time of her own.

Now, she wished that she had told him so before last night had happened. Two weeks ago, they'd been barely speaking and he'd been avoiding her at every turn. Last night he had seemed to want to tell the world that they were a couple. As she had told him, she just couldn't make the mental adjustment that fast.

So instead of taking the risk of going back to his room — and yes, the room was still his - and getting into another fight that wouldn't have a winner, she had taken the path of least resistance and had come back to her old bed to sleep alone. She hadn't slept well, but she had made it through the night. Now it was time to face the morning. The single most intense thought in her mind was that she knew — she just knew — that she had made the situation worse instead of better by delaying their confrontation. Now, she'd just as soon not bother with one at all.

She reached to the headboard in a practiced motion and turned off the built in alarm. She had early watch today, and she wasn't looking forward to it. It wasn't that she minded duty as trainer — she had always liked working with the rookies, even when they tried her patience with their inexperience and ignorance — but it was damned early, and she was still tired.

She rolled to the side, sitting up carefully so that she didn't smack her head on the bunk above. She spared a passing thought that she was glad her bunk was even still available. Her move to Lee's room had been unofficial, so she still had a locker and bunk here if she chose to use them. This was the first time in months that she'd elected to do so. The last time had been when Lee had the flu, and she couldn't take his coughing a moment longer. Come to think of it, she hadn't slept well that night either, as she'd been busy feeling guilty about leaving him sick regardless of his telling her to just go.

With a yawn, she untangled herself from the covers and went to the shower line. She was out of practice at this. She and Lee had been on opposite shifts for long enough that she'd become used to getting straight under the water. The ten-minute wait for one of the fifteen stalls was a pain in the butt. She ignored the few curious glances that she got as she stood there. No doubt there was a good deal of speculation about what she was doing here, but she was relatively sure that they would have the good sense not to question her. After last night, she had already revealed more personal information to the squad than she wanted to. She imagined they would find her return to group quarters to be fuel for the next six months of gossip.

Kara finally made it to the head of the line and then into a shower stall. She stripped there, sticking her duty uniform and underwear over the door and quickly soaking herself. The water wasn't warm enough to keep her there, but it did wake her up. She dried herself off with the towel she'd tossed next to her uniform and then redressed. When she left the stall, she was fully dressed except for her shoes and socks. In a washroom of officers wearing only towels and underwear, she felt almost overdressed. She tried not to think about it. Just because she'd spent the majority of the last ten years walking around half-naked in front of her team, it didn't mean she felt comfortable at the moment.

"Kara?"

With her towel around her shoulders, Kara turned to face what she was sure was a challenge. Lieutenant Katherine Pollard stood there with a concerned expression, though. Not curious, but concerned. It made a difference. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" Katherine was standing way back. One of the few Raptor pilots left from before the war had started, she was also one of the few women that Kara had always called friend.

"I'm fine," Kara said with a sigh. "Just needed some space last night."

"Not much of that in here," Katherine commented wryly, but she didn't look judgmental. That was something. "There's so many rooks coming in that we're falling all over one another."

"Tell me about it," Kara complained, but it was without heat. "I'm the one that has to train them."

"Better you than me," Katherine told her with a wink. "You on early shift, or you gonna run?"

Kara checked her watch. Not used to waiting for her shower, she had miscalculated in setting her alarm. Now she really didn't have time to catch a run before a second shower and breakfast. Damn. "Running behind," Kara admitted. "I'll grab a bite and then hit the hanger."

"I'm on mid," Katherine explained. "So I'm gonna run. Let me know if you need anything."

"I will," Kara promised, but it was idle. She had no intentions of going to anyone with her problems. Still, it was nice of her to ask. "Thanks."

Katherine gave a smile, and Kara went back to her locker to grab a comb and toothbrush. She used both quickly, making sure she stayed clear of anyone she knew well enough to expect questions. She was moderately successful, fending off a couple of curious looks with a practiced glare and not needing to talk to anyone until after her morning routine was complete. As she tucked the toothbrush and comb back in her locker, her hair already falling forward into bangs from where she'd swept it back out of her way, she reflected briefly on the contents of the locker.

Kara had one toothbrush, one comb, an extra small set of tanks and a small fight suit. That was all. Anything personal had long since been taken to Lee's room so that she had it handy. It was why her quick shower hadn't included soap or shampoo; she hadn't had them with her.

She was going to have to do something about the situation, but for the life of her she didn't know what. And Lee's feelings were so damned touchy lately that she was scared to say anything. Any doubt, any reason at all on her part, he seemed to take personally. She couldn't understand why he didn't realize that part of this involved her, too. She had feelings as well. Wasn't that allowed?

Kara stopped by her bunk to put on the socks and boots she'd left there the night before. Having done so, she was as ready for work as she was going to get. She grabbed a protein drink from the mess hall on the way up to the flight deck, deliberately not looking back to the corner that she and Lee had shared the night before. Damn it, why couldn't she have just smiled and said thank you? Why had she let it bug her so frakking much that so many eyes had been on them? Hell, it probably wasn't even them, but the existence of a private table that had drawn their attention. Why hadn't that occurred to her last night? Everything just seemed so much more sensible when she was well-rested and looking at things in the light of day.

Silently, she made herself a promise to relay that to Lee along with an apology. It really had been a sweet idea. With a sigh, she entered the ready room and grabbed her clipboard from its place on the wall. After hitting a few buttons, she winced. She had Brennan today, and then Conley. Both were among the weaker flyers, but neither was bad enough to buck out of the program. She wasn't worried that they'd lose the Viper, but rather that they'd shake something loose when landing. They weren't entirely incompetent, just inexperienced. That was why she was taking each of them out for a quick launch and landing. Those were the hardest two skills to master in the Viper — gaining control after launch, and then landing the bird on a moving landing deck. She could do either one without thought. The same could not be said for her rookies.

Both of the eager young faces were sitting at one table, and both looked a lot more excited about the day than she felt. Great. Still, she decided to enjoy what little she saw of space while she was there. Once these two mini-flights were accomplished, it was performance evaluation and maintenance. It wasn't her idea of a great ten hours, but she would do it. But she still had ten minutes before she had to face either of the cadets, so she was going to check out her own Viper first. That way she could look over their shoulders while they checked out theirs.

"Good morning," the Chief said as she stepped back out of the ready room to head for the line of Vipers.

"Morning," she replied. She left out the good — without her run, it wasn't her idea of a good day.

"Taking out the rooks, I see," he commented briefly.

"Yeah. Roster says I've got one-forty-two, correct?"

"That's your bird," he replied. "They have the next two down."

Kara nodded. It was nothing out of the routine. She walked down the line of Vipers without another word to Tyrol. He had work to get done as well; he didn't need her hanging around to chat. Well, that and she really didn't feel like talking.

Approaching her Viper, she gave it a cursory once-over with a practiced eye. Running her hand along the fuselage, she couldn't help but smile a bit. They were really beautiful. This was one of the Mach VII's that had been on the Galactica for repairs when the war had started. She was gorgeous. Now retrofitted with a computer system thirty years younger than her original electronics, she was one of her favorites to fly. She was fast, handled beautifully, and could land without even a hiccup. Kara didn't mind the Mach II fighters — she'd certainly spent her share of time in them — but when the Chief saw fit to assign her the VII she sure as hell wasn't going to complain.

Walking around behind the bird, she frowned sharply. That wasn't right. Stepping in beneath the three engines, she ran a finger across what was normally a clean and dry area. It was dark and greasy, and something had to be coming from somewhere. Looking up, she saw a trial of the brown gunk from the upper engine.

"Chief?" she called out. Once she heard his footsteps coming back her way, she returned her attention to the Viper. Tyrol took care of his birds like a mother watched her children. This was completely out of the ordinary.

"What do you need?" he called once he reached the front of the Viper.

"Got a problem," she admitted reluctantly. "There's a leak."

"A what?" His voice was suitably offended. She had expected that. 

"I don't know what it is," she explained. "Dark, greasy, but doesn't smell like oil or coolant. This is out of my league. What else is liquid back here?"

Tyrol came around, and his expression of alarm would have been comical if the situation hadn't been so serious. "Frak!"

"That's what I thought," she muttered.

"Must be pollution from the Tylium," he grumbled. "The converter may not be processing it right. I'll have to pull the engine to find out. Let me get a ladder and take a closer look."

She waited with veiled impatience while he did so. It was late enough that she should at least let the kiddies know where she was, but until she knew what was up she didn't want to leave. While Tyrol slid the tool box and ladder close to the Viper, she walked down to look beneath it to see where the trial continued towards. Tylium broke down into a number of components, and some of them were caustic. She didn't want to find any damage to the shell of the Viper. While Tyrol climbed the ladder, she followed the trail down towards the magnetic landing supports. 

Sure enough, there was a pool of whatever it was gathered around the joint to the landing gear. Frak. She just hoped it hadn't been there long enough to do any damage. Dropping down onto her back, she slid up under the Viper to see how much had collected and whether it was readily accessible for cleanup.

The next few events happened so quickly that it would take Kara hours to mentally sort them out. She felt the Viper drop down towards her even as she heard Tyrol's yell as his ladder pitched forward. She put her hands up in a defensive move that was ridiculously inadequate given the twenty tons of metal suspended above her. She did her best to scoot out of the way, but being in her duty uniform instead of the slicker flight suit or orange work uniform, she wasn't as mobile against the textured metal flooring. With her hands against the Viper, she felt it lowering onto her in a slow-motion fall, and she was helpless to stop it. Squeezing her eyes shut, she had a flash of memory of what had been left of Roger Caplin when they'd finally gotten a fallen Raptor off him. There hadn't really been enough left to identify.

Feeling the increasing pressure of the plane's weight, she said a quick prayer that Lee wouldn't be the one that had to pull what was left of her out.

"Kara? Kara, can you hear me. Shit! Kara?"

Doing her best to get air in, Kara tried to answer. She really did. But it was all she could do to inhale past the pain in her chest. There just wasn't any room for her lungs to expand. She was effectively pinned. It took a moment for her to even realize why that was.

"Kara, damn-it, answer me!"

"Here," she finally got out in a whisper. "Can't" There was no more air. She couldn't say anything else.

"Don't move!" Tyrol commanded. "I've got it wedged, but it isn't stable. Don't move at all. Understand?"

She did. And she couldn't move if she'd wanted to. But she couldn't get enough air in to tell him that. She couldn't even get in enough to make the sick and spinning feeling go away. 

"I need to get help," the Chief told her urgently. "Kara, just don't move. I swear we'll get the Viper up. Just stay still until I can get back."

They would get her out. She knew this crew. They had to get her out. She tried her best to hold off the claustrophobia that threatened, reminding herself that if she could hear, she was alive. If she was alive, then she was breathing. If she was breathing, then they had time to get her out. She just hoped they could do it before Lee found out.

"Lee."

She wasn't even aware that she'd whispered his name until she heard her own breathy voice.

"I'll get him," the Chief assured her. "Just don't move!"

No. That wasn't what she wanted. Lee would just panic and feel responsible. It was what he did best. He'd probably ream her out for sliding up under the Viper in the first place, or have Tyrol brought up on charges for letting this happen. Shit.

She clasped and unclasped her hands, which was about the only part of her that she could move. All she could see was the dark underbelly of the Viper, and she tried not to think about what she could feel. The pressure on her chest was painful, and that same pressure was along her legs and groin. If they got her out of this when when they got her out of this, she was going to be one big bruise. Lee was going to have a fit.

In a way, Kara almost wished that the Viper had just come all the way down and taken care of it in one motion. She probably wouldn't have even felt it. This she could feel, and she couldn't move. It wasn't the first time in her life that she had been pinned and helpless, but she had to say that it was the worst. She couldn't even take a real breath.

She heard scrambling footsteps around her, but she couldn't see anything. Shouts and the clang of equipment filled the air, and still she was stuck there with no way to know what was going on. She heard a lot of cursing — most of it Tyrol — and then she heard another familiar voice. It was Cally.

"Hang on, Starbuck. We're getting it."

Kara clung to the voice, and then to something more concrete. A hand. Cally's hand slipped into hers and she squeezed.

"Squeeze once if you can hear me," Cally requested.

Kara squeezed, long and hard.

"Okay once for yes, twice for no. Understand?" Cally's voice was clear, but urgent.

Kara gave a quick squeeze.

"Are you hurt?"

Kara remained still. She honestly didn't know. She was thoroughly squished, but did that qualify as hurt.

"Starbuck? Can you hear me?" Cally was starting to sound frantic.

Kara gave a squeeze.

"Are you in pain?"

Now that she could answer. One squeeze.

"Can you move at all?"

Kara squeezed twice. Aside from hands that could clasp and unclasp, she was completely pinned.

"Can you say anything."

Kara tried to take a deep breath and was rewarded with an acute pain in her chest. She gave two fast squeezes instead.

"Okay, here's the deal. This is gonna take a while. We've lost one of the landing supports, and we don't know why. Right now, it's wedged with a ladder, but we don't trust it. We need to get the high-lift in here and strap the Viper to get it up and off without it tilting. Do you understand?"

Kara closed her eyes in panic. She couldn't stay here that long. She couldn't.

"Starbuck?"

Kara squeezed twice. No. She couldn't do this. She couldn't stay here that long. She couldn't breathe that long.

"You don't understand? Should I explain it again?"

Another two squeezes. Hearing it once had been more than enough.

"What's wrong? Oh shit, like you can really tell me!" Cally's words would have been comical if her voice hadn't been so urgent. "Starbuck, I swear we'll get you out as soon as we can. We have to be careful; if we lose another support, then we lose you. We won't let that happen."

Kara squeezed long and hard. As soon as she loosened her grip, Cally was gone. Kara fought panic once more. Cally had at least been a link to the world. She had been someone talking to Kara, even if she couldn't talk back. She had been confirmation that she wasn't alone down here, and that they were trying to get her out. Intellectually, Kara knew those things were still true, but without the tangible proof it was harder to remember.

Kara could hear Cally among the other voices around her, but it wasn't the same. She became aware of a flurry of activity, and yet could see none of it. She willed herself not to cry, because she knew that a stuffy nose would only make it harder to breathe, and she couldn't stand that. It was all she could do to breathe as it was. Frankly, she felt as though she couldn't, but she was still conscious so some air exchange must have been taking place.

Gradually, the pain in her body faded to a kind of numbness. She didn't hurt anymore, and that was something. She couldn't feel anymore. She was just there, with all the noise and clanking and yelling going on around her, and no understanding of what was going on. She was very much afraid that she would go insane while she was stuck her. That would be ironic, she thought with sick humor. They might save her body, but her mind would be gone. Squeezing her eyes closed again, trying to block out the situation she was stuck in. She tried to think of it as a mental exercise; just how far from here could she get?

The furthest place she could think of was bright and open and clear. Caprica. She could remember Caprica. She could remember the first time that she'd been in the air, when she'd realized that the world around her wasn't limited to trees and mountains and buildings.

It had been a transforming moment. She had been nine years old, or somewhere close to that, when it had happened.. 

She had been about the same age as Lee when William Adama had found her, so she'd just picked his age to claim as hers. They had both started school the same year, so she'd just said she was whatever age Lee was. There really wasn't any official paperwork, and they had just celebrated a birthday for her at the same time that they celebrated one for Lee. He hadn't ever seemed to mind. In fact, they had laughed about getting two cakes instead of one.

So just after their ninth birthday, Lee's dad had taken them both up in a transport freighter. It had been during one of his dreaded tours of planetside duty. Dreaded because he hated it, but not because they had. Lee and Zak had always loved having their dad around. Kara had mostly stayed clear. A part of her had always been just a little afraid of him back then, most likely due to the past that she still didn't remember very well. But so long as Lee and Zak were there, she'd gone along. Just like she had that day.

Adama had been a Captain, and he'd been given a routine assignment to move some equipment from one side of the planet to the other. For some reason, he'd been able to get clearance to take them along as well. So he had loaded the three of them into the transport, done a lot of talking on the radio, and then had taken off into the air.

For the first few minutes, she had clutched Lee's arm as though they would fall out of the sky. But he and Zak had flown with their father before, and they'd thought she was being silly. Now that she thought about it, even as Zak had laughed at her — he'd been around six at the time — Lee had let her hold on to his arm until she'd finally realized that the plane wasn't going to crash. 

Once that fear had abated, she'd been entranced. Everything had looked better from the air than she had ever seen. She had loved looking out at the trees and deserts, the water below them and the mountains beside them. She had been in awe of it all as they flew on the two-hour trip from day into night. That had fascinated her as well — going from day to night and then back to day in only a few hours. From that moment, she had been in love with the air. Lee had been before that, so he understood. Back then, Zak had just liked being with his dad for the trip.

From that time, though, Kara remembered that Adama had taken them up any time he had the excuse. She never thought about what he must have gone through to get the military clearance to do it. Every time he took them up, she fell a little more in love with flight. It was open and free and everything that she loved in life. She had enjoyed it so much that somewhere along the line she had forgotten to be afraid of the oldest Adama, and he had just become an amazing pilot that was able to give her what she wanted more than anything. He had given her a purpose.

Lee had always known he wanted to be a pilot like his dad. Kara had been undecided until she'd gone up on that first flight. From that day, the two of them had shared something that no one else — not even Zak — had understood. They had spent months looking through every book on planes and spacecraft that they could find. They had been studying flight schematics when other kids were studying for science tests and planetary history. They had been quizzing one another on the Colonial Fleet when other kids were quizzing each other on algebra. They had both knocked themselves out in math and physics, knowing they were the foundations for flight. They had shared a common goal: they were going to fly.

Kara could think of only one memory more powerful than the first time she had been in the air, and that was the first time she had soloed. She had been on an adrenaline rush that she hadn't since equaled. She'd been both preoccupied and had a mind so clear that she saw and felt everything. She remembered the initial panic when she'd realized that she was really and truly off the ground, with nothing but her own skill to get her back down. She had been incredibly calm given the circumstances, and she had shocked a few of her trainers when she'd landed the craft as smoothly as a pro. It hadn't been the first time she'd landed of course, but it had been the first time when no one had been in the plane with her to bail her out if she had screwed up. But she hadn't. She had taken to the air like a bird, and what was more she had come back to the ground the same way.

In the air, or in space, Kara was at home. Anyplace else, she was at least a little claustrophobic. But what she was feeling at this moment was beyond a discomfort of cramped places. This was pure, suffocating fear, and it was getting harder to ignore. Her mind was a great place to escape to, but she'd never been good at doing it for long.

At the moment, she was right back where she'd been: pinned beneath a Viper and scared out of her mind. She wondered how long she'd been here. Time didn't have a whole lot of meaning when every moment felt like an hour. She was still conscious, and they were still moving around, yelling, and more often than not cursing. At least they hadn't given up on her. She wouldn't give up on them.

But she was scared. Every moment she was down here made her a little more afraid than she'd been the moment before. She tried to think of something else — something good — but nothing could distract her at the moment. Even pleasant memories of a childhood that had turned out better than she'd had any right to expect wasn't enough to completely block out the horror of her current situation. All she could focus on was Roger's funeral and how very sad everyone had been. She hadn't cried — not in front of everyone — but she'd felt like it. There had been an oppressive mood on the Galactica for weeks after it had happened. She could only pray that this wouldn't be a repeat. They had been so damned careful about shoring up supports. She still didn't know what the hell had happened.

And at the moment she didn't care. She just wanted this over, one way or another.

"Kara?"

The voice caught her attention, but she didn't open her eyes. There was no point. She couldn't see anything anyway. So she just lay there and tried not to cry, because she couldn't even answer him.

The warmth of his hand against hers caught her by surprise and brought her attention back to where she was, and what was happening. She squeezed gently, too tired to do more, but she felt him squeeze back.

"Almost there, Kara," Lee promised, his voice sounding as frantic as hers would have if she'd been able to speak. "Are you okay?"

She couldn't answer, but she squeezed.

"Tell her once for yes and twice for no," Cally called out. Kara almost smiled. Leave it to Cally to order the CAG around.

"Are you hurting?" he asked.

She squeezed twice. She wasn't. She really couldn't feel much of anything.

"Thank the Lords for that," he muttered. "Hold on. We'll have you out of there in a minute."

She squeezed once, and held tight. Cally had left her there, but she wasn't letting Lee go anywhere.


	9. Rescue

Chapter 9

Lee held on to Kara's hand for dear life, because hers was. He still hadn't caught his breath from the run to the hangar bay, but he really didn't care. So long as he could keep one hand on hers, he would manage.

Tyrol had bawled him out for even that. Okay, maybe it wasn't the safest place for him to be, tucked up under the wing of a falling Viper, but it was the only way he could manage to reach in and assure himself that Kara was still alive. Cally had been able to squeeze in enough to get a full-body look at her, so he had some reassurance that there at least was no blood, but that was about all. They couldn't even get a medical team in there to get a blood pressure on her or give her oxygen or anything else. Salik and his team were standing a short distance away so that as soon as the Viper was up they could get her out.

Until then, he was essentially useless to all of them. He didn't know enough about the lifts to help out there, and Tyrol's team knew what the hell they were doing. At least they'd better, otherwise he was likely to kill them all. He just might do it anyway, given what had happened. Someone had to be at fault. It was easier to think about that than the weak grip on his hand.

They had to get her out. She was wedged in beneath one wing, flattened straight out with her arms over her head. That was the main reason he couldn't even see her; the wing tip was within an inch or two of the deck. He didn't know why her arms were extended above her, but he was grateful. If they'd been at her sides there would have been no way they could have reached her. As it was, he was flat on his belly with one arm as far under the wing as he could reach just to make contact. It wasn't much, but it was all he had.

Kara hated tiny spaces. She always had. If he could have traded places with her, he would have done it in a heartbeat. Instead, all he could do was lay there and pray, and hope, and worry. They had to get her out.

"Captain Apollo, it would be safer if you could back up a little," Tyrol advised. "We have two bands on the Viper, and as soon as we have a third we're going to lift it."

"Am I in the way?"

"No, Sir, but"

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, Sir, but"

"Then just get her out," Lee told him quickly. "I'm fine here."

Tyrol didn't argue, but neither did he look happy. That was fine. Lee wasn't very happy either. He hadn't been happy since a call had come to his office that a pilot had been caught under a falling Viper. He'd hit the corridors at a run, and only when he'd entered the bay and started demanding answers had he realized just who was under there. After that he hadn't thought about anything but getting to her. He still wasn't thinking very clearly, but he didn't give a shit. He just wanted her out. He wanted to be able to put his arms around her and hold on. He wanted to hear her voice. He needed her.

"She still okay?" Cally asked, bending down next to Lee. It was the most stupid question he'd ever heard. Of course she wasn't okay. She had twenty tons of spacecraft above her, held there by a stupid titanium ladder. But that wasn't what Cally was asking. She just wanted to know if Kara was still with them. When he nodded, she explained, "The Chief was afraid that if we only lifted the one wing, the other supports might give. That's why we brought in the other two lifts. We want to take it straight up and off her."

"How long has she been here?" he asked. How long had she been trapped there by herself? How long had her life been suspended by a thread?

Cally checked her watch. "Almost ten minutes," she admitted reluctantly. "We're getting it done as fast as we can, but we want it right."

It had better be right. It had to be right. But he wanted it done now. "How much longer?" he asked.

Cally looked around her to gauge the progress. "Two minutes, tops," she told him. "But you really should move. The bands are threaded with titanium, but if one snaps"

She had said the last words very quietly, but they still infuriated Lee. Kara had to be scared enough without anyone mentioning the possibility of failure. "I'll be fine," he told her firmly. 

Cally shook her head in much the same way that Tyrol had, but she didn't argue either as she stood to walk towards one of the lifts. Lee was distracted as Kara squeezed his hand once more.

"You okay?" he asked her again.

One squeeze. That was supposed to mean yes. Either that or it meant that she couldn't squeeze twice. "You having fun under there?" he asked quickly, desperate to make sure that it hadn't been an inability to answer no.

Two squeezes that time, and he closed his eyes in relief. She was still with him. He just had to keep her there. Lords, she must be terrified.

"Two more minutes," he told her. "They've almost got it."

One more squeeze. He hated this. He couldn't see her, and couldn't help her, and he couldn't take her place. All he could do was hold tight and pray that nothing went wrong.

"Salik, we're ready," Tyrol called out.

The doctor stepped forward and spoke to Lee. "When it comes up, don't let her move. We'll have the team come in and take her out. We don't know what injuries she could have. Understood?"

"Kara," Lee called out. "Did you hear?" Nothing. "Kara, when the plane comes off, try not to move. Let them come to you. Got it?" One squeeze. He then nodded to Salik, and closed his eyes in a silent prayer. Please Lords, he thought, not Kara. Don't take her from me. Please.

"Teams on my mark," Chief Tyrol called out loudly. "Three, two, one, lift!"

Lee heard the creak and groan of the machinery as the Viper lifted. It took every bit of his will not to tug her from beneath the rising spacecraft, but the doctor was right: she might be hurt. She was probably hurt. He tried not to think about that.

She squeezed his hand tightly as the Viper lifted from her, and he could only pray that she wasn't being injured by their attempts to free her. As soon as there was enough clearance to see her he sucked in a breath. She was completely still, her arms extended above her head, and her face was nearly blue. Once glance was all he got, because Tyrol called a halt to the lifts, and Salik's team was in action. Two techs came in from the far side of the Viper, and another two from behind him with a plastic litter. Staying low, as the Viper was only about two feet from the ground, they carefully maneuvered her onto the litter. He still had a grip on her right hand, but he couldn't see her for the medics in his way. That was fine. She was getting the care she needed, so he could wait.

"On three," Salik said. "One, two, three." With that, they scooted her from beneath the Viper towards him, strapped neatly to the plastic board. Lee followed. In the back of his mind was the knowledge that it was his responsibility to find out what had happened, and his job to make sure the rest of it was dealt with. He just didn't give a shit. He had moved with the litter, still clutching her hand within his own, and he wasn't leaving her.

Once they were clear of the Viper and its lifts, they put her down and the medics started working in earnest. He couldn't see her face — they had covered it with a large oxygen mask just as soon as they had put her down — but her hand still looked a little blue. She wasn't talking, and her eyes were closed.

"Kara?" he called. "Still with me?"

She gave another squeeze. One of the medics reached for that arm, and he shifted with it. He let the medic move around him. He knew he was in the way, and he just didn't care. Three years back, he had seen death coming for him in the form of a Cylon missile. His ship had been crippled, his wingman dead, and he had known then that he would die. Out of nowhere, this woman had come blasting through that missile and had managed to get him home. Now she was the one who had been alone and facing death. He'd be damned if he'd let go of her. The fact that he could do very little to help her was irrelevant. He was here. It was all he could give her.

He didn't understand half of what was going on. They'd put in an IV, checked blood pressure, and were doing a dozen other things that he didn't really didn't recognize despite the basic first-aid training that all pilots received. The doctor was running an odd device over her stomach and chest beneath her shirt, looking at a small monitor in his hand. Techs were doing things to her arms and legs. It didn't matter. Salik's team was the best. They would get her through this.

After a few more minutes, Salik said it was time to get her to the Life Station. Lee still held her hand when they lifted the litter up onto a rolling gurney, and he didn't let go as they began rolling her towards the stairs. 

"Captain Apollo?" one of the medics asked. He didn't answer, but he did look at her. "We need you to let go so we can get her up the stairs." Lee looked around him and realized the problem. He gave a last squeeze before releasing her hand. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but necessary so that the four medics could pop the wheels up on the gurney and carry her head first up the stairwell. Lee followed behind them at a jog. He didn't want to be in the way, but he had to know how she was. He wasn't on duty anyway — his shift today was mids — so Evans had the watch. Let him figure out what the hell had happened. If Lee was technically supposed to be running the show, then he'd take care of it later. At this moment, his mind only really had room for Kara.

Once they had made it to the Life Station, he wasn't able to stay close to her. As the door to a treatment room was firmly slammed in his face, he realized that having rank wasn't of use everywhere on the ship. He closed his eyes for a minute, trying to pull himself together. She was going to be fine, he tried to convince himself. She had to be fine.

"How is she?"

Lee looked up to see his father walking briskly into the room. It hadn't even occurred to him to call his dad. Before he'd made it to the hangar he hadn't realized how serious the situation was, and once he'd found out he hadn't been willing to leave her to do anything. But the fact that he had forgotten bothered him. In his way, his father was at least as close to Kara as Lee was. In many ways, he was closer.

"How the hell would I know," he said with frustrated fury. "They won't even let me in the frakking door!"

Adama stepped closer and put a hand on Lee's shoulder. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Lee took a deep breath and tried to calm the rage of not being able to do a damn thing for the woman he had fallen in love with.

"They haven't said," Lee said, and his voice wasn't nearly as steady as he had thought it would be. "She'll be fine. I'm sure she'll be fine."

His father didn't look so sure. He looked worried. When Adama gestured to one of the chairs in the waiting area, Lee suddenly realized that his legs were shaking. He walked over to the chair and sat down quickly.

"What happened?" his father asked in a gentle voice. "I got here as soon as I could get out of CIC. We just got the report from the hangar."

"They think it was a hydraulics failure on the rear landing support," he said as he put his aching head in his hands. He hadn't even realized that he'd developed a headache in the last few minutes. He had been too focused on Kara. "No one's sure. She was up under it for something — I don't know why — and the Viper just settled down onto her. Tyrol shoved a ladder under it and ran for help. I don't know anything else."

"How long was she there?"

Lee shook his head; he wasn't even sure. "Fifteen minutes or so. I wasn't there for the first ten."

"How long have you been here?"

Lee just shook his head again, standing up quickly and starting to pace. He had no clue, but he knew it was too long. Standing his body was shaking, but sitting he felt like he'd fly apart. He had to have some outlet for everything he was feeling. 

How long had he been here? A minute? Ten? He really didn't care. However long it was, it had been too long. Panic that he had momentarily banked was creeping up in him again, seeking release.

"She wasn't moving when they got her out," Lee said in a shaky voice. "Not moving, not talking. Her hand was so cold, and her face How long can it take for them to check her out?"

His father stood up as well, but he didn't pace. He just stood there, watching the door as Lee had done, watching Lee go from one end of the room to the other. His presence was both calming and infuriating. "Give them time to do it right," he advised. "They'll come get you when she's ready."

"Her hands were blue," Lee said quietly, desperately afraid that his voice was going to break altogether. He couldn't get the sight of her still body out of his mind. "I couldn't see her face, but her hands and arms were blue."

When his father stepped forward and put his arms around him, Lee jumped. He hadn't even sensed the movement. He hadn't been that aware of what was going on around him. But once he felt his father's hug, he didn't even think; he just held on. If anyone in the world cared about Kara as much as Lee did, it was his dad. He had to be as worried as Lee was. And yet the older man was keeping himself together so much better than Lee was. It made him feel vaguely ashamed, but there was no accusation in his father's actions. He was simply offering what comfort he could. It wasn't really enough for either of them.

They held one another for a long moment, and as his father released him he reached up and put a hand on his shoulder. "She's strong," Adama assured him. "She's always been strong. She'll get through this."

Lee nodded, but didn't try to speak. He was too close to the edge of falling apart as it was. What the hell was taking them so long? He paced the room, using movement as an outlet for some of the emotion. He didn't know what else to do. When exhaustion finally overpowered the excess energy he began to slow. He knew the feeling of an adrenaline low — the inevitable result of an adrenaline rush - just as he knew there was no way to fight it.

He finally took up residence against one wall, using it for support, and his father sat down in one of the chairs. Lee lost track of time as they waited, if he'd ever really been aware of it. By the time Salik opened the door and walked towards them, Lee was nearly ready to break the door down. He didn't have to ask how she was.

"She's stable," the doctor told them. Lee felt his heart start rushing again; for a moment he had felt as though it had stopped. "She has a lot of bruises, but we didn't find any broken ribs and her pelvis is intact. Those were our primary concerns. It took us awhile to get her blood oxygen level up where we wanted it. Her breathing had been so shallow for so long that it's a wonder she stayed conscious at all. We haven't found any internal injuries, but we'll watch her. Sometimes these things show up later."

Lee closed his eyes and let himself rest against the wall as his legs started shaking again. She was okay. She was going to be okay. Regardless of any danger she might still be in, she had to be okay.

"When can we see her?" William Adama asked quietly. Lee thought his dad's voice was shaking a little, too. For some reason it made him feel a little better. Maybe his dad wasn't quite as together as he seemed. It made Lee feel a little less inept at his emotional handling of the situation.

"You can go back to see her. I don't think we'll get her to sleep until you do. But I don't want you to stay long. She needs to rest, and I can't sedate her. Her breathing is still more shallow than I'd like, but I guess her chest is pretty sore and breathing is still painful."

Lee nodded and started walking. He didn't care if it was rude. He just needed to see for himself that she was okay. He brushed by the doctor without a word, not even consciously aware that his father was following him closely.

Most of the technicians had already left the room. There was one tech checking equipment in the corner of the room, but he was the only one left there. The head of the bed was raised, and Kara was sitting up at an angle with the mask still on her face, tubes coming out of one arm, and a sheet pulled up beneath her arms. Her arms still held the faint yellowing brown bruises that he had put there a week before. It didn't make him feel any better.

Once in the room, Lee felt pretty stupid and came to a halt. Would she even want him here? She'd been so concerned about what everyone had thought the night before. Right now, all he wanted was to make her comfortable. If that meant leaving, he'd do that too.

His father had no such intentions. "What are you doing off duty?" he asked her with a smile as he approached the bed. Kara turned to look at him, and Lee could see the grin returned, even through the clear oxygen mask, although it was tired looking and brief.

"Sorry, Sir," she said in a very soft voice. Barely a whisper. If Lee hadn't been trying so hard, he would have missed the words.

"How do you feel?" his father asked.

"Sore," she admitted. "But it beats being dead."

"I'd say so," Adama agreed. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Yeah," she told him in that same whispery voice. "Send that idiot son of yours over here."

"You've got it," he told her, bending forward and kissing her on the forehead. "I need to get back to CIC anyway. I didn't even wait for Tigh to get there to cover. Who knows what they've done to my ship while I was here." He grinned at her, and it was returned. Lee was relieved that she was at least able to find some humor. "You feel better." Leave it to his dad to give her orders now.

She nodded, but it looked like an effort. His father kissed her forehead again, and then came back to the door. "Go talk to her," he instructed. "She won't bite. She has a muzzle on."

Lee smiled at that, and Kara started to laugh. She stopped with a clear look of pain as she wrapped her free arm around her body. Lee's smile faded as quickly as hers had. "Hey," he finally said. Lords, he wished his voice would stop shaking!

"Hey," she whispered back.

"Hurting?"

"A lot," she admitted. He approached the bed, and got close enough to take her hand in his. She squeezed, and for some reason that made him feel a little better. "You stayed."

He shrugged one shoulder. "I couldn't just leave you there to get all the attention," he said with a wink. Humor had worked for his father; he'd try it himself. It beat the hell out of treating it with the seriousness that it deserved.

"Thanks."

He didn't know what to say. He had stayed because he hadn't had a choice. It hadn't been a conscious decision, so he really couldn't take credit for either the bravery or the stupidity, depending on how you viewed the situation. He watched as she shifted slightly in the bed, wincing with the effort. "So, nothing's broken?"

"No," she answered. "It came down pretty slow. Everything bent instead of breaking. It just hurts like hell to breathe."

"Can't they give you something?"

She shook her head again, but more gently this time. "Something about me not breathing deep enough as it is. But it hurts."

"I'm sorry," he told her softly. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

She was quiet for a moment, then looked up into his eyes. "Can you stay?" she asked.

"I can stay," he agreed as he turned away from her. "Let me go grab a chair."

"Lee?"

He turned back at the odd note in her voice. Slowly her arm came up and she reached out towards him. It was an invitation he couldn't refuse. He walked back over to the bed and took her hand. "What?"

"Hold me?"

He knew what it had to have cost her to ask, but he didn't exactly know how she wanted him to respond. He couldn't say no, but that didn't make it easy. "I don't want to hurt you," he admitted.

"Then don't leave."

Lee took a good look at the bed. It was about the size of the one they shared in his room, and she was off to the far side because that was the hand with the IV. Lee sat down on the edge nearest him, where there was the largest empty space, and watched as she painfully shifted away to give him room. "Are you sure?" he asked her. "I'm afraid I'll hurt you."

She nodded her head, and he moved a little further onto her bed, lifting his feet up and resting his back against the head of the bed. Kara shifted again, this time to her side, and rested her head on the arm he'd slipped behind her. With her face tucked in close to his chest, and the hand with the IV on his stomach, he did his best to hold her close without causing her pain. He wasn't sure if he was having much success, but it felt damn good to hold her.

They lay that way for a long while before he noticed that she was crying. It bothered him — Kara rarely cried — but he could understand. It had been a hell of a day and it wasn't even nine o'clock, and he'd been pretty close to tears more than once himself. He shifted himself a little closer, let her rest one knee on his legs, and put his arms all the way around her. It was still awkward with that damned mask in the way, but it was better than nothing. At the moment, it was better than most things.

Her quiet flow of tears lasted for a long while. She never really came apart — at least not the way he'd seen her do a couple of times in the past — and that was probably a good thing. If talking hurt her, he couldn't imagine what sobbing would have felt like. But she was still clearly upset. Her nose got runny, but he found a towel on the table by the bed, so they were able to wipe that up. Her body trembled against his, she clutched at his shirt occasionally with the hand on his stomach, and she kept her face buried in his chest.

Doctor Salik came in at some point, but he didn't comment on their position or her crying. He just passed a device over her back while he looked at his little hand-held monitor and then adjusted the valve on a tank nearby. "Are you staying for a while?" he asked.

Kara raised her head to look at Lee, and tightened her grip on his shirt at the same time. "Yeah, I'm staying," he answered.

"Good," the doctor said simply. "I have monitors set so that if she isn't getting enough air in you'll hear it start buzzing. Our techs will be monitoring as well, but if you're here you can act more quickly. Get her awake, and have her take some deep breaths even if it hurts. Got it?"

Lee nodded, and noticed that Kara had not only put her head back down on his chest, but had let out a breath that could have been relief. He just continued to hold on tight as Salik left the room.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been there, and he really didn't care to check his watch, when he heard the alarm for the first time. He glanced up to see a red light flashing, then down in his arms at Kara. "Take a breath, Kara," he told her urgently.

She did so. Then she took a second deep breath. The sound of the alarm silenced, but the light kept flashing. 

"Again," he told her.

He felt her chest move this time, and saw her wince of pain, but finally the red light went out. He wondered where the techs were that were supposed to be monitoring her.

"Don't do that," he muttered to her, and glanced down to see a tired smile. He shifted her body slightly, trying to give her more room to breathe, but she didn't let him get far. When his arms loosened, hers tightened. After another moment, he gave up on trying to give her room that she wasn't willing to take.

"Lee?" Her voice was that same whisper, with no strength behind it at all.

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember"

"Remember what?" he asked.

"Your dad. When he took us flying. The first time, I mean."

Lee smiled at the memory. "I remember that I couldn't keep you out of my room afterwards," he told her with a grin. "You kept stealing my books after that, and asking me a thousand questions that I couldn't answer."

She nodded her agreement, but didn't speak.

"Why?"

"I wanted to fly," she said simply. He had to keep bending closer to hear her.

"No, I mean why are you asking about it now?"

"You let me hold on," she explained. He could only give her a confused look, so she continued. "When I was scared in the plane Zak laughed, but you you let me hold on." Her sentence had been broken by her breathing, but he thought he understood. 

"You can always hold on to me," he assured her.

She gave a little nod, then closed her eyes. Lee lay there watching the monitor, not knowing what he was really looking at, but always afraid the alarm would go off again.

It did so several times. Each time that it did, he shook her gently, called her name, and had her breathe as deeply as she could until the light stopped flashing. The techs came in several times to check on her, but none of them commented on his being in her bed. He was grateful for that much at least. It hadn't been his idea, but he couldn't argue that it felt pretty damned good to hold her.

Gradually a few of her friends came by to visit. They didn't even enter the room, just peeked in and asked how she was. Lee nodded or spoke softly, but Kara didn't pay much attention. He wondered absently if they were discreet because of his presence, or if Salik had told them to let her be. He wasn't sure which answer he preferred. The morning crept by slowly, punctuated by buzzing alarms, anxious looks, and the steady warmth of Kara in his arms.

When Evans came into the room, he braced himself for the worst. Lieutenant Evans was Kara's backup, just as Kara was Lee's. Most of the time, one CAG was more than enough to keep things running, but it made sense to be sure more than one person was trained to the position. Lee himself had been tossed in head first, so he'd taken the extra time to explain everything to Kara: scheduling, reports, and the endless paperwork. Then in the last few weeks he'd explained it all to Evans as well. If both of them were out of commission, it would be this Lieutenant's job to keep the pilots in order.

"How is she?" Evans asked softly. Unlike the rest of Kara's friends, Evans didn't stop at the doorway.

"She'll be okay," Lee said softly. Then, more out of a feeling of responsibility than actual interest, "How are things down on the deck?"

"Straightening out," Evans answered as he took the chair that Lee had intended to use earlier. He still hadn't commented on where Lee was lying, a fact for which Lee was very grateful. Kara still hadn't stirred in his arms. "It was a hydraulic failure," Evans added. "Some of the Tylium processed didn't make it to the collection area, and when it drained down into the landing gear it compromised the supports. The rest of the gear is fine, and they're replacing the damaged one. It should be ready for flight by tomorrow."

Lee nodded. Something so minor — just a little leak — and it had nearly cost him his best pilot, and his best friend. Actually, far more than just a friend, but if he thought about it too much he would lose it in front of Evans. Professionalism. He had to keep that distance. To do so, he got back to business. "Tyrol running things?" he asked.

Evans grinned at that. "He's better at it than I am," the man admitted. "I just watch and listen. Patrols are on their way in from early watch, and mids have already gone out. I did cut the training schedule," Evans added reluctantly. "I wasn't sure if I should assign another pilot or not, so I just stuck them on hold. I figured you could handle that decision on your own."

Lee nodded. He would have cancelled the training flights, too. Not just any pilot could take out rookies and expect to bring them back in one piece. Kara was one of the few he could trust with that responsibility. His arms tightened around her unconsciously, and he heard her protest the gentle squeeze. She would be sore for a while if this morning was any indication.

"Did you want me to cover mids for you?" Evans asked, not meeting Lee's eyes. The question seemed to embarrass him. They had been splitting the duties into an early and mid shift, or an early and late shift. It had been more to keep him busy and give him a chance to check-up on Evans' work than because it was truly necessary.

"Check with the Commander," Lee finally said. "If he wants me on duty, I'll go. Otherwise we can skip it. You've been covering things pretty well during the days."

Just then, that damned light started flashing and Lee heard the alarm go off again. "Kara," he said loudly. "Wake up a minute."

She did, taking a deeper breath automatically, and immediately silencing the alarms. They were getting pretty good at this.

"She okay?" Evans asked, standing up and coming closer to the bed.

Lee gave a small sigh. "She will be."

"Anything you guys need?"

Lee thought about that. "Just check with the Commander about my shift," Lee requested. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Fifteen-hundred."

Lee nodded. Technically, he was already supposed to be on duty, or at least receiving reports from Evans. He supposed that in a way he was doing just that. "I should probably check with Tyrol," Lee thought aloud.

"He's off in thirty," Evans reminded him. Then, with a grin, "But I doubt he'll leave. How about I send him up here to get him off the deck? Then you can talk to him and you won't have to leave her."

It was a long way from regulation. "Thanks," Lee said. "That would help."

Evans nodded, stepping up to the edge of the bed. He looked at Kara for a long moment, then met Lee's eyes. "Let her know we're thinking about her," he said softly.

Lee nodded. "Thanks for coming by."

Evans gave him a grin. "Call us if you need anything. The Squad, I mean. Everyone wants to do something, and we really don't know what she needs. Besides you here, I mean."

Lee ducked his head at that, and couldn't help but wonder what everyone was thinking about the situation. He didn't care — not really — but he did wonder. Lee had never missed a duty in his life when he'd been conscious to show up, and he wasn't big on defying orders during a rescue attempt, either. Today had been a day for firsts. It was also just about the first time he'd had his hands on Kara in front of anyone other than immediate family, and usually not them either, even if it had been no more than a high-five or a hug. Now, here he lay, on her bed, with his arms wrapped around her. So much for professionalism on duty.

Evans didn't hang around to watch Lee's embarrassment, if that was even what it was. He supposed it was more a discomfort than really being embarrassed. He didn't care who knew that he cared about Kara, but not knowing her feelings on the subject he was reluctant to be too open. Still, this hadn't been his idea, and she hadn't given him a lot of choice.

At the very least, that was what he told himself as the alarm went off once more, and again he had to wake her.


	10. A Game of Cards

Again, sincere thanks to Lona Jennings for her careful line edits!

Chapter 10

"Kara, wake up."

As much as Kara Thrace liked hearing Lee's voice, she was getting more than a little sick of it. Her chest hurt, her legs hurt, and every time she just about managed to get to sleep, that voice cut in and woke her up.

She took a breath, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through her chest as she did so, but the buzzing sound stopped and Lee left her alone. She did her best to get to sleep again.

"Kara?"

She took another breath, snuggled her face back down into Lee's chest, and wished that he'd just be quiet for a while. 

"Kara, I need to get up."

Whether it was his shifting body, the sharp pain that went through her at his movement, or his voice, somehow she got the idea that this wasn't the usual wakeup command. She forced her eyes open, wrapping the arm that he'd moved from his stomach around her sore chest and lying back on the bed.

"Sorry," he told her gently. "I'll be right back. I promise."

She nodded and tried to get comfortable again. Well, as comfortable as she'd been able to manage before. She wasn't successful. After a couple of minutes of shifting around, she opened her eyes and decided to take inventory of herself before Lee got back.

Under the circumstances, she figured she'd really easily. She was alive, and the doctor had told her nothing was broken. She felt like everything was broken, but she would take his word for it. She tried another deep breath, and while the pain was still there it wasn't quite as sharp as before. She reached up to rub at her itchy face, and found that the mask she had been wearing had at some point been replaced by a tube that wrapped around her head and stuck in her nose. Wonderful. She rubbed her fingers under the tube, trying to stop the itching.

Upon closer inspection, she found that she could move her arms fairly easily, and her hands didn't hurt. Her legs weren't bad as long as she didn't move them a lot. She decided it was her chest and stomach that were the worst of it. It wasn't too bad compared to what she'd felt like when the Viper had first come off her. That had hurt. It had been as though her entire numb body had found sensation at once, and it had been more than she could process. It had literally hurt too much to scream. She thought she might have even passed out, but she'd been so fuzzy then that she couldn't be sure.

"How are you feeling?" Kara turned her head and tried to squash the disappointment that it wasn't Lee. 

She tried to work up some enthusiasm for Doctor Salik's greeting and failed miserably. "I've felt better," she admitted. 

"I'll bet," he agreed. "While your shadow is out of the room, let me go ahead and check you."

She nodded because talking still took a lot of effort. It seemed to take all the air she could get in just to breathe; there wasn't anything left for talking. With Lee she had managed it because there had been things she needed to say — things she had seriously doubted she'd live to get the opportunity to say — and she had owed him that. But casual conversation wasn't worth the pain.

The doctor shifted the sheet out of the way and ran a little wand thing over her stomach and chest as he'd done before. "What does that do?" she asked faintly.

"Lets me know if there's any bleeding that I need to worry about. So far there's nothing to get excited about. You have some bruising, but that's to be expected. I'm not finding anything that really concerns me except your breathing. You need to remember to take deep breaths."

"How long is it going to hurt?" she asked as the doctor ran his wand over each leg.

"At least a few days," he admitted. "Tomorrow will probably be the worst, though."

"Worse than today?"

He gave her a grim smile. "A little bit," he told her. "But if I can get you to start breathing a little deeper, I'll be able to give you something for the pain."

"If you give me something for the pain, I'll breathe deeper," she suggested with a raised eyebrow and her best attempt at a smile.

The doctor didn't answer, but he gave her a wink as he pulled her sheets back into place. It occurred to her that she really hadn't gotten a good look at herself, and she wondered where the bruises were and how bad they would be. It seemed like too much effort to try to look though.

"Make a deal with you," the doctor offered. "You keep that alarm from going off for two hours straight, and I'll go ahead and give you something for the discomfort."

"Deal," she said eagerly. She would have agreed to anything to talk him into something to make her chest hurt less.

Just then, Lee stuck his head in the door with a smile. "Hey, I'm back."

Kara returned the smile as she turned with some difficulty to look at him. "Good. Where'd you go?" Later it would likely bother her that she'd been so eager for his return, but at the moment she wasn't going to analyze it. She wanted him there. Period. When a person lived through thinking they'd never see the ones they loved again, seeing them became almost imperative.

"Bathroom," he admitted sheepishly.

"Oh." She didn't think she was very successful in looking casual about his answer. Talk about having a good reason to take a break.

"Well, I'll get out of your way now that he's back," the doctor told her with a small smile. "Remember the deal."

She nodded, took a deep breath, and watched him go.

"Deal?" Lee asked.

Kara patted the bed next to her where Lee had been before. He took the hint and resumed his spot, allowing her to turn over on her side and settle in as comfortably as she could. It hurt a lot less to be on her side than to lay on her back. "If I can keep that damned buzzer quiet for a couple of hours, he'll get me drugs," she told him. "So help me stay awake. Talk to me."

His arms had already gone around her. She liked the feeling. "Talk about what?"

"Whatever," she suggested, then chanced a glance up at his face. His smile was indulgent, but not terribly inspired. "Okay, I'll talk. I'm sorry."

"What for?" he asked in confusion.

"Being a jerk last night," she told him. "It was last night, right?" She added with a confused expression. "I haven't lost a day?"

"It was last night," he assured her. "And I'm sorry too."

She shook her head gently. Come to think of it, her neck didn't feel that great either. She added that to her mental list of gripes. "Dinner was a sweet thought, and I was a grump. You deserved better than that. I still don't know how you managed it all."

She felt him shrug. "I'm sorry I did it when you'd already been on duty for ten hours," he said. "I knew the schedule — hell, I made the schedule — and I should have waited until your day off. I was just trying to get it set up so you'd be surprised. I didn't realize how tired you'd be."

"Okay, so we're both sorry. Forgiven?"

He kissed her gently on the top of her head. "There's nothing to forgive."

She let out a breath that she hadn't been aware she was holding, shifting her body to try to escape the pain and not managing to do anything more than make it worse. This was miserable.

"You okay?"

"Just hurts," she told him. "Keep talking. What did they find out about the Viper?"

Then she listened for awhile as Lee told her what had gone on with the landing gear and the subsequent rescue efforts. She was fairly impressed that they'd done it so quickly, but to her it had seemed much longer. She had felt like she'd been under the Viper for hours. Part of that was probably not getting enough air, she decided. She hadn't been very alert.

"It was pretty dumb to crawl under there with me," she told him when he'd finished his story and had become quiet. "You wouldn't have let anyone else get away with it."

"Probably not," he admitted, his arms tightening around her slightly. "But I wasn't in that much danger. I couldn't fit anything under there but my arm. It's a good thing you're so skinny, otherwise you wouldn't have fit. Tyrol had it propped with a six-inch ladder."

"I'm glad he thought to stick it under there," she admitted. "I thought he was just falling when I saw it come down."

"He must have felt the gear giving way," Lee thought aloud. "I owe him my thanks. Maybe a decoration."

"He'd deserve that anyway," Kara told him. She was getting sleepy, and doing her best to stay alert so she'd keep taking deep breaths. The only good thing she'd found about the situation was that the deeper she tried breathing, the less her chest really hurt when she slipped back to the shallower breaths. She'd gone from a sharp pain to a dull ache, but even that was an improvement.

"Yeah, he would."

Kara lay there a moment longer before asking him again to talk to her. "I'm too tired to stay awake on my own," she admitted. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Me either," he said. She tried not to feel guilty about his staying with her; it had been his choice, even though she had encouraged him more than a little. Besides, at the moment she was far too grateful for guilt.

"So talk."

He did. He talked about the pilot rotation, and the schedules he should be putting together. He talked about Evans, and how well he'd managed the crisis in their absence. He talked about his father, and how he'd come running to the Life Station when he'd found out she'd been hurt. He even talked about how he'd set up their date — the people he'd gotten to help him and the strings he'd had to pull. She didn't say much, but he still kept talking. Kara tried not to dwell too much on just the fact that she was enjoying hearing his voice.

Kara didn't remember very much of the next few days. She had a vague memory of the accident, and an even vaguer idea of the first couple of days in Life Station, but other than that it was pretty fuzzy. She assumed it was the medications that Doctor Salk had finally given her. He'd been right about the second day, though. She remembered that pain, although it seemed far away now. For the last day or two she'd been getting better. She had some colorful bruises any place that she'd had bone meet Viper or deck, but at least Salik was allowing her food now, and she didn't need the pain medications any longer. She was also able to stay awake, and breathe and talk without pain. In all, she was ready to get out of bed and get back to work.

She was completely bored. Lee had gone back to work, as much out of guilt as necessity. He still came in to spend the nights with her, although she wasn't sure he was getting all that much sleep. Still, while she hadn't asked for him to stay, she wasn't going to argue with his choice. She loved being in his arms, even if it was in a fairly public location with a lot of disruptions and more onlookers than she could count.

She'd been rather disoriented in those first days anyway, so as much as she hated to admit it she really hadn't missed him when he was at work. She knew that several friends had come by at one time or another because they'd left notes and treats for her, but she didn't remember them being in the room either. Again, she chose to blame the medication rather than considering herself rude.

No one had been by this morning. She'd been laying awake in bed for the last couple of hours, growing steadily more restless. Earlier, she had managed to get herself into the tiny bathroom and clean up a little, although she hadn't been able to bend over well enough to stick her head in the sink to wash her hair. She had settled for combing it back out of her eyes. She had put on the clean sweat pants and tank tops that Lee had left for her along with a joke about how small they were, and the tanks made her grateful that her arms didn't carry the same bruises that her legs did. There was still a little yellow discoloration from Lee's grip during their argument, but it was nothing compared to the bruises the Viper had left on her legs. Now she was just sitting in bed wishing that she had something more to do.

Salik was out of the Life Station for the morning, so she couldn't even nag him to let her out. She thought she might even be able to talk him into it today. She was eating okay, had walked to the bathroom on her own as he had demanded she do prior to release, and she didn't need the pain medication. Granted, she wouldn't be climbing in or out of Vipers for a few more days, but she was well enough to be out of this place. If he'd just show up, she decided she'd tell him just that.

"Morning!"

Kara turned towards the door with a smile at his return. While he had spent the night next to her, he'd left an hour before to check in with the flight deck and check on Evans' progress with the rosters and assignments. "I thought you were on duty," she told Lee in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Taking a day off," he told her with a wink. "I happen to know the guy who makes the schedules."

"Right," she told him with a laugh as she scooted over to make room for him to sit on the bed. It had become as much a habit as anything else — another fact she chose not to analyze. "That's why you work twice as many hours as anyone else."

"Actually, Evans is making the schedules," he admitted. "I'm just enjoying them. He wanted to try his hand at days for the rest of the week. I decided he could have it. I haven't taken any time off in the last couple of months, so I figure I have it coming." 

Lee sat down on the space she'd made for him and leaned in for a second good-morning kiss. This too had become somewhat of a tradition when he left her for work, and it was one she definitely wanted to continue. She loved the way he took his time about kissing her, and she let herself enjoy just a few minutes of not feeling like an invalid. He had put a hand on either side of her body, and she was able to slip her arms around his neck as he leaned over her. The kiss went on for a long time, sweet and gentle and mostly innocent. He concluded it with a couple of light pecks, as though he didn't want to stop. She liked that thought. "I'm glad you're here," she told him quietly.

"Me too," he admitted. "And you're about to get happier."

She raised one eyebrow. "Yeah?" She wondered if that was possible given her current condition.

With a flourish, he fanned out the cards he'd brought in with him. "I refuse to bet," he told her quickly, and she thought it was in response to the wide-eyed surprise she must have shown when she saw them. "But at least it will pass the time."

She couldn't stop her smile that time. He hated playing cards with her. Even when money wasn't involved, he always complained that losing so much wasn't good for his character. "We have to bet," she argued with a wink. "That's what makes it fun."

"For you," he muttered in a mock-sullen voice. She knew he wasn't really upset about it from his tone.

"How about we play no losers?"

Another mock glare from him. "How do you suppose we do that?" he asked as he pulled a tray closer to the bed and over their laps. She spared a thought that the rolling hospital tables were actually pretty convenient.

"Play for something you don't mind losing," she suggested.

"This isn't the time or place for Strip Pyramid," he grumbled. 

"Fine, so we play for kisses. You lose or I lose, it's all pretty much the same. Fair?" She held her breath as she waited for an answer. She was still new at thinking of him as more than a friend, but the last few days had taught her that time was indeed limited, and if she wanted this to happen she was going to have to step out of her comfort zone and let it.

"Are we getting or giving?"

"Probably a little of both," she told him with another wink. "Winners get to initiate; losers get to enjoy."

He shook his head with a soft laugh. "I'm closing the door," he told her firmly. "And nothing below the shoulders. We're not exactly alone here."

She laughed with him. "Fair enough."

He took up residence next to her once he had the door closed, and dealt the cards evenly onto the table before them. She was a good enough sport not to peek at his cards, although it would have been easy enough with him beside her.

"I'm in with one," she told him with a smile.

He looked over his hand. "Raise," he countered. "This may be worth at least three."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Not exactly subtle, are you?" she asked. "Okay, I'll bite. Three. What do you have?" She didn't have much herself, but she didn't mind letting him win the first hand.

He fanned the cards down to the table. First level of a pyramid; not bad. She had about half of that, but then she hadn't traded any cards. "You win," she admitted. "You get three."

He gave her a grin that made her want to retract the offer, and then pushed the table out of the way to give himself room to turn to and reach her without a lot of effort.

The first kiss was sweet, simple, and very much like his good morning. "That's one," he said softly right against her lips. Then he kissed her again, just a little deeper, a little harder, and a little more. She wasn't complaining. "Two," he whispered, and the word was almost another kiss in itself.

"Do I get to kiss back?" she asked him, licking her lips at the prospect.

He watched her mouth, grinned once more, and nodded. "Ready for three?"

"God, yes," she mumbled.

When he met her lips this time, he was smiling. He kissed her as though he'd always been doing it; as though it were the most natural thing in the world. It was hot and deep, and as much as she tried to kiss him back she still felt like he was in direct control of it. She didn't mind — well, not much — but it was an odd feeling. She slipped her arms around his back as the kiss continued, more passive than participating, but enjoying it all the same. When he raised his head, she was the one who was smiling.

"Ready for another game?" he asked, as though he hadn't just had his tongue in her mouth. That thought had a shiver running up her spine.

"Um, yeah," she said, trying to gather her thoughts. Cards. Pyramid. She was good at this. She'd always been lucky with cards.

The next couple of hands went more predictably. She won, but his bets had been low. She might have been the one initiating those kisses, but he was still the one doing most of the moving around. It was still pretty hard for her to change position quickly. She didn't mind that, though. He let her lead, and she got to explore a little, and he didn't seem to be too disappointed when his hand wasn't the winning one.

He had finally won his second hand about half an hour — and maybe ten kisses — later. "My turn," he told her with a grin, and took his position above her. He got two this time, and she was ready.

The first was about like his last one; long and sweet and thorough. When he finished, he pulled back a moment and met her gaze. She wasn't quite sure what was in those blue eyes, but for just a moment she didn't trust it. Warily, she watched him descend again. And then she forgot everything.

It wasn't one of the sweet and mostly innocent kisses that he had been sharing with her. This kiss was almost rough, barely restrained, and it demanded a hell of a lot more than just lying there and enjoying. Her arms went around his neck almost reflexively, and she held on for dear life. Should she have set a time limit? she wondered absently — there wasn't any room for true coherence — because this kiss was going to kill her.

Just about the time she realized that there was very little chance of ending this at just a kiss, she heard a sound in the room that distracted her slightly, but only slightly. She did her best to ignore it until she felt Lee pulling back, his head ducking to end the kiss and get out from beneath her arms, and his breathing so fast and hard that it was almost funny.

Feeling more than a little put out, she opened her eyes to see his gaze fixed, not on her, but on the door. She followed his eyes and blushed blood red. 

"Hi, Dad," Lee mumbled, doing his best to move back to a more respectable distance. Kara wished he'd just stay still; he would be a nice object to hide behind.

"Sir," she said with a squeak to her voice that she couldn't keep out.

William Adama's eyes were just plain amused. "Looks like a good morning," he said with a wink at his son. Kara didn't think she'd ever seen Lee quite that color before.

Giving up, Kara leaned forward, grabbed Lee by his shirt, and buried her face in his lower back. He had turned it to her in order to face his father, but she wasn't quite willing to do the same. Not just yet; she settled for peeking around Lee's side.

"I just came by to see if you needed anything," the Commander said around a huge smile. Kara was glad that someone found this amusing; her definition was more along the lines of mortified.

"She's better this morning," Lee filled in when she stayed silent.

"Good," Adama said, and still she could just hear the amusement in his voice. "If she's up to it, I brought along someone who wanted to check up on her."

Kara's eyes closed again. Death didn't sound like such a bad idea, she mused. Maybe there was a Viper she could sneak beneath to hide when all this was over. The logical part of her mind was telling her that she'd only been kissing someone — and Lee at that — so it really wasn't a big deal. They were both fully clothed, and it wasn't as though their relationship was a total secret. But the logical part of her mind was most definitely in the minority at the moment. 

Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself together and lay back against the head of the bed to see who her visitor was. Gratefully, she was lying down when she saw him, because she likely would have pitched forward to the floor if she'd seen him before that.

There standing in the open doorway, wearing an expression that was far more speculative than Adama's amused smile, was Colonel Paul Tigh.

Kara wondered then if it was possible to die from embarrassment, and knew that in the next few moments she would definitely find out.


	11. Rest and Recovery

My thanks to Lona Jennings for her lovely nitpicks 

Chapter 11

There were some things in life that a man learned to laugh about over time. Lee seriously hoped that getting caught making out in a hospital bed by the two highest ranking officers on the Galactica was one of them.

At the moment, he seriously doubted it.

Granted, neither had really seemed upset. Come to think of it, neither had seemed surprised either. His father had taken it in stride, and the only aggravating part had been the stupid grin that the man would not take off his face. Lee supposed he should have expected it. After all, his father had been rooting for him and Kara since before Lee had realized it was an option.

Tigh, on the other hand, had been just plain mean. Maybe not intentionally so, but that was the way it had come across to a man who had been interrupted in the middle of something that had felt damned good. Thankfully, the XO's left handed comments about slacking off duty and leaving the room for people who were really hurt had been taken in stride by Kara. If anything, she had been more of a brat at that moment than Tigh had been. When Tigh had mockingly told her to go to work, she'd slipped out of the bed fully grateful to do so. It would have served her right if she'd fallen on her butt. Instead, she'd had them all laughing with her wobbling walk by the time she'd laid back down.

In all, the visit hadn't wound up nearly as bad as it had started out. Tigh had brought Kara a few books that he'd thought she'd like while she was stuck in bed — both of them by authors that Lee knew Kara liked — and had seemed genuinely pleased that she was feeling better. Given the animosity that the two of them had always shared, Lee had seen it as a pretty good sign. For her part, Kara hadn't been nearly as snippy as she normally was around Tigh. She hadn't been friendly, but neither had she been rude.

But that didn't mean that she'd been entirely at ease in the situation. In fact, despite Lee's efforts to move to a chair, Kara had kept a firm hold on the back of his duty pants, making it impossible to leave her there by herself without making a scene. He had wound up sitting on the edge of her bed for the visit whether he felt comfortable about it or not. He had tried not to let it bother him. After all, if the ship's Commander and XO didn't have a problem with their CAG being on a bed with another pilot, than Lee wasn't going to explain it to them.

If nothing else, their visit had been fairly short. Unfortunately, it had broken a mood that he had been thoroughly enjoying. He wasn't sure exactly how he had let a simple card game could get so entirely out of hand, but he had really enjoyed when it had. The fact that Kara had enjoyed it as well was the one thing that made even the interruption tolerable. He didn't think it was the last time they'd be all over one another.

Still, her arms hadn't gone back around him when his father had escorted Tigh out, and conversation had taken the place of their game of Pyramid. He wasn't sure exactly what it meant, but he wasn't planning to leave his imagination on overdrive. When all else failed, he could always ask.

"You okay?"

Kara looked up and met his expression, her eyes a nearly clear green in the bright overhead lights. "Fine," she told him with a smile. "Maybe a little tired. Pretty dumb really; I haven't done anything."

"Well, we were kind of busy when my dad came in," he admitted sheepishly.

"That was fun, not work," she told him with a slight punch.

Lee felt himself relax. Only then did he really admit to himself how worried he'd been that she would shut him out as she had done before when their actions had been questioned. They had never been caught so blatantly, though. He had to wonder how she felt about it.

"Are you okay with my dad knowing?" he asked.

She shrugged one shoulder. "I don't think we could keep it a secret," she admitted. "And I'm pretty sure I don't want to. We're not doing anything wrong, so I guess it's time to stop acting like we are."

That did bring a smile to his face; he couldn't have said it better himself. Laying his hand along her cheek, he let his thumb trail over her lower lip, just enjoying the soft texture and unique opportunity. She really was damned pretty, even without the paint and crap that other women relied on. Her eyes were huge and gorgeous, her skin was clear and pale and soft, and her lips

"What are you thinking about?"

Lee's attention came back to the moment with a startling jolt. He'd gotten a little lost for a moment. "You," he admitted softly.

"What about me?" she asked in a wary voice.

"That you're pretty," he admitted, and had the pleasure of watching a blush rise up from her throat to her forehead in record time. It was at least as bright as the one she'd had when his father had walked in. There was something nice about knowing he could make her blush. "And that I'd really like to get you out of here," he added as his thumb left its exploration of her lips and trailed down her jaw. She had the softest skin

"I'll be off duty for another couple of weeks," she told him, but her voice had an unusual tremor to it. Lee found that he liked keeping her just a little off balance.

He didn't answer, because he didn't need to. He wasn't going to let her distract him. Having trailed his thumb along her jaw and down her neck, he allowed his fingers to follow the curved path of her military issue tank tops. Yes, she did blush from the chest up, and he found it adorable. There was a lot of ground that neither of them had bothered to explore before now. He was absurdly glad that they'd get the opportunity.

A shadow of gray caught his attention as he played with the top of her shirt. With a frown, he pulled back the green undershirt and peeked just below it. Kara didn't stop him. What he saw was enough to make him catch his breath. 

He had seen the bruises before. Originating at her collar bones, they were nearly black with blue and purple radiating outwards from the center. She had told him that she had similar ones at hip bones and ribs, but for some reason he hadn't realized just how bad they really looked; just how painful they had to be.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked her gently. "I mean, I knew you were sore, but"

"It's sore," she admitted. "But I don't do pain. I would have told you if anything had hurt. Besides, I think I was the one grabbing you, not the other way around."

He nodded, but for some reason he couldn't pull himself back from the slight guilt of wanting her so much when she was still in so much pain. She handled it so well that he'd almost forgotten.

"Hey," she said clearly, drawing his attention back up to her eyes. She looked mad. "Don't go there."

"What?" he asked in what he hoped was an innocent voice. She knew him too damned well.

"Don't start getting all morbid and shit," she insisted. "I'm here, I'm fine, and I'm not going anywhere. You didn't hurt me, you won't hurt me, and if you start backing down after all this I just may hurt you."

He smiled at the fierceness in her voice. "How did you know what I was thinking?" he asked. It was a rhetorical question. They both knew the answer.

"Lee, I've got a very good appreciation of my own limits," she told him in a much gentler voice. "And trust me, what we were doing earlier was definitely not taxing them. In fact, I really wish your dad had been about ten minutes later, because I'd kind of like to know how far we might have gotten."

He scooted himself back up onto her bed, nudging her to the side so that he had room to lay next to her. As though they'd been doing it for years, she turned over onto her right side and let her left leg rest over his. Her left arm likewise wrapped around his stomach, and her head fit perfectly on his chest just beside his left shoulder. He didn't have a clue what to say to her. It seemed like one or the other of them was always pulling back from the relationship for some reason, but they always wound up back here, in one another's arms, as comfortable as though they had been this way all their lives. He had to wonder if all couples went through this, or if it was just them. Then again, maybe it was better if he didn't know that answer.

As Lee watched Kara reach out for him in sleep, mumbling slightly when she didn't find him, he had to smile. Normally he would be lying with her, but this once he hadn't been tired and he didn't want his restlessness to wake her. Still, she was reaching for him. Habits formed so quickly. Okay, so maybe this habit was a little more ingrained, but in the grand scheme of things six months didn't seem so very long. That was really the sum total of the time they'd been sharing a bed. Six months, give or take a couple of extra days here or there as their lives had demanded it. Six months, and she would be a part of him for the rest of his life. He didn't sleep worth a damn without her there, either.

It was damned good to have her home.

If he was honest with himself, she had done more than scare the shit out of him when she'd gotten pinned under that Viper. She had forced him to reevaluate a lot of things, and analyze a lot of motives. Sitting next to her while she was in and out of consciousness for another day hadn't been easy either. The bottom line was that he had to decide whether he could live without her or not, if he were to be given the choice. It hadn't been much of a decision.

Kara had always been around, and a big part of him had assumed she always would be. She was just there, taken for granted, and not really valued as she should have been. That had changed with the onset of the war. He took nothing for granted any longer, least of all the life of his best friend. But unfortunately that knowledge hadn't pushed him towards her, but away. He'd been scared to death that he'd lose her like he'd lost everyone else — from Zak, to his mother, to the dozens of friends and acquaintances that he'd made along the line. In the time span of a few hours, he had lost everyone except his father and one friend, and they had become his anchors in a very uncertain world.

But in using them as anchors, he had placed them in a position of frightening importance. Without them, he didn't think he'd have any stability at all. So he had done his best to keep those relationships both solid and unchanging. It might have helped him remain grounded, but it hadn't been fair to either one of them. First of all, no one deserved that much responsibility for another person's mental state. And secondly, it had limited the progress that could take place in either relationship. Change could not occur without risk, and he had not been willing to take any risks.

But it had all been taken out of his hands as he'd lain on his belly on a flight deck, clutching a small, cold hand. He had realized then that nothing he did to a relationship could be as dangerous as taking it for granted. Nothing could destroy it faster than preventing growth. And probably most importantly, realized that if he'd lost Kara at that moment, nothing would have made it worse. Being her brother wouldn't have made it worse. Being her lover wouldn't have made it worse. The only thing that truly could make it worse was the knowledge that he hadn't given her everything she deserved.

He had absolutely no clue what she saw in him, but apparently there was something. After all, she was still around after he'd given her hundreds of reasons to run screaming. She had once told him — he couldn't remember the exact circumstances — that a friend was someone who had seen you at your worst, and loved you anyway. That described Kara exactly. Being her boyfriend — and he hated the immaturity of the word, but couldn't find another — wasn't going to change her love because she'd already survived him at rock bottom. If she could still stand to be around him after he'd lost Zak, and after the way he'd treated his own father, then there wasn't much he could do that would be worse.

A soft groan brought his attention from her relaxed body to a less than happy expression. Whether it was a dream, her injuries, or a memory — Kara was hurting.

"Wake up," he told her softly, leaning forward to place a hand on her arm as he did so. "Kara, wake up."

She did. He eyes flew open in a terrified stare that caught him off guard. She gulped in a breath, winced, and then gulped in another.

"You're okay," he assured her, brushing bangs back off her forehead and leaning down close to her. "I'm right here. Nothing will happen." He wasn't sure why he thought that should be reassuring. His presence had never really protected her before. Still, it seemed the thing to say, and it had the desired effect.

Her eyes closed and he watched a shudder run through her body. "Bad dream," she muttered. He had already known that.

"Wanna talk about it?"

She shook her head, wincing again.

"Hurting?" he asked.

"Just stiff," she said. "I'm fine."

He didn't believe it for a second. "Roll over," he instructed, giving her a little push so that she'd turn her back to him. He stood up and placed the chair he'd been using back at his desk, then lay down next to her.

She didn't argue. That worried him just a little — Kara argued about everything, and he liked it as much as he dreaded it - but he tried not to let it worry him. Once she was faced away from him, he untangled the covers from around her to get down to Kara and her underwear. He didn't move her top — didn't think he'd live through it — but instead began rubbing her back gently through the cotton of the shirts. It wasn't exactly a massage as he didn't want to squeeze or press because she still had so many sore spots, but it was more like petting her. If it comforted her half as much as it did him, then she'd be back to sleep in minutes.

Sure enough, after a few minutes he heard a contented sigh and she rolled onto her back. She wasn't asleep, but the tightness on her face was gone and her eyes were droopy. "Thanks," she told him quietly.

"Anytime," he promised, leaning forward to give her a gentle kiss. 

At least, that was what he had planned. Somehow his intentions seemed to fizzle once his lips were on hers, and it was like fighting something both magnetic and electric. Once he started, he just didn't want to stop. Normally it wasn't an issue. Most of the time when she'd been in Life Station, someone was visiting the room or one of them had something they needed to do. But tonight he was off duty, and she was supposed to be resting, and they were in his room where no one was likely to open the door on them. So the kiss didn't turn out as innocent as he'd planned.

Kara's hands moved to his chest, grabbing shirts and holding tight. He tried to remind himself why this had to be a bad idea, but the concepts weren't forming as they usually did. It just felt too good to lay here and kiss her. She eased a little closer to him, pinning her hands between them, and his arms wound their way around her back, and Lee just settled in to enjoy.

Lately, this had been happening a lot. Once they'd decided to go ahead and let things just happen, it had seemed as though they didn't have a whole lot blocking them. When they weren't busy thinking up excuses to stay apart, falling together was remarkably easy, and Lee had to admit that it had its advantages. It also had disadvantages, but he was beginning to consider the constant state of discomfort below his belt to be an acceptable price to pay for the moments spent in her arms.

Kara was a really incredible kisser. She wasn't overpowering, but she didn't just lay there either. She was a partner, giving and taking in equal measure, and always letting him know where she stood. She wasn't quiet about it either, and he really liked that. She made soft sounds of approval, little groans or sighs of pleasure, and her occasional gasps were incredibly good for his ego. It made a return to the days of youthful frustration to be almost bearable. Almost. Sometimes, bearable wasn't the word.

"Mmm, Kara, stop please," he muttered, giving her another little kiss. She did, for just a moment, and then kissed him again. He followed suit until they were right back where they had started. He decided to try again, more out of desperation than anything else. "Kara, give me a minute. Please." Two more kisses, her hand slipped up his chest, and he had to bite his own lip to keep himself together. With a tremendous burst of will, he ended the kiss, rolled to his back, and did his best to catch his breath before he embarrassed both of them.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly, reaching over to lay her hand in the center of his chest.

"Just cooling down," he admitted with a partial smile. He wasn't quite comfortable enough to give her a full one just yet. He started counting backwards from ten, but it wasn't far enough. He started again, this time from one hundred.

"You okay?" she asked, this time coming up on one elbow with a wince and looking genuinely concerned.

"I will be," he admitted wryly.

She looked him over from head to toe, her glance stopping about midway and her eyes widening in understanding. She was a very bright girl. "I guess we overdid that," she said with an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

"I'm not," he told her with a smile as he reached up to brush those stubborn bangs back away from her forehead so he could see her eyes. He really loved her eyes. "Kara, I enjoy everything we do. That doesn't mean that I wouldn't love to do more when you're feeling better. Between now and then, I just have to take a break now and then."

She nodded, but then the concerned expression returned to her face. She looked almost sad.

"What?" he asked. When she put her head down, he put a finger under her chin and lifted her face to so he could meet her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Lee, I'm not saying no," she began, then she didn't continue.

"But?" he prompted.

"But I don't want to lose my wings," she admitted. Finally, her eyes met his directly. "I'm not ready to be a mother. It isn't you — I swear — I'm just not ready to get pregnant."

Pregnant. Crap. He hadn't even thought of that. "That's fair," he admitted, still reeling from her words. When he'd thought of the complications of becoming her lover, that just hadn't been one of them. Still, she had a point. Birth control wasn't as easy as a trip to the local commissary anymore. Pregnancies were celebrated — even encouraged. Was a birth control means even available? It had to be, didn't it?

"I mean, there are other ways," she admitted with an embarrassed smile. "It's not like we have to if you get too I mean shit!"

She tucked her face into his chest and just blushed. He knew what she was trying to say, and he appreciated it, but he was still amused by her words. It wasn't as though either of them was a virgin. Still, desperate times could call for desperate measures. He was just about that desperate, but not quite. More than that, he was loving making her blush.

"You have a point," he admitted, watching her forehead as he did so. "And there's a lot to be said for me not laying on top of you in the near future," he added with a smile he couldn't stop. "Then again, you could always take the top"

He stopped, laughing, when her fist connected with his ribs. Okay — enough teasing, that had hurt. "Sorry," he told her. "Couldn't resist. I think I've seen you blush more in the last two days than in the twenty years before. It's kinda sweet."

"You're going to be kinda dead," she growled.

"Kara, there are a lot of ways to" 

"True," she admitted, cutting him off before he had to figure out a way to finish his sentence. "And until we can find out what we can do to keep from winding up with a kid out of this deal"

Lee cocked his head sideways as he looked at her. The expression must have been odd, because she got a strange look on her face and stopped.

"What?"

"A kid," he said with a shrug. "I guess I hadn't thought that far ahead. Mostly it's just getting through the day to day. I wondered a little about someday when Sharon had the baby, but it didn't really relate to me."

"Tell me about it," she agreed. "And we're still trying to figure out if we're going to work. I mean, without killing each other."

"True."

"And it isn't like this is a world I really want to bring a kid into, much less raise one in."

"I know."

"And I'm really not even that good with kids. Aaron hates me, you know. He cries every time I look at him."

Lee just smiled.

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

"Just imagining what your kid would be like," he told her with laugh. "Lords, can you imagine the trouble she'd be in?"

At the very least she didn't take offense at the remark. In fact, it didn't seem to register at all. "So we're agreed?" she asked, looking honestly concerned. "No kids. Not yet, anyway."

"No kids," he confirmed. "We can talk to Salik and find out what's available to keep you in the cockpit."

"Okay," she said with a relieved breath. "But until then"

"Until then, I keep my pants zipped," he said wryly. "You're still not moving well enough for me to want to bounce all over you."

Kara laughed at that until she was clutching her sides in clear pain. Despite the discomfort in her expression, he couldn't help but love the sound of her laughter. She had a wonderful laugh. He hadn't heard it nearly enough lately. "Good idea," she finally admitted. "But if you need"

"Thanks," he said honestly. "But, no. I don't mind playing around a little, but when this happens I don't want to be worried about how far to go, or when we have to stop, or any of that other stuff. When it happens, I want it to be" He looked at her for a long moment, reaching up to fiddle with the hair that would not stay where he'd put it, tucked behind her right ear. "I want it right, Kara. I think we've waited too long for this to start out doing things half way."

She nodded, lowering her body back down to the bed with a pained expression and resting her head on his arm, right up next to his shoulder. Automatically, his arm went around her, gently pulling her in towards him. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, grateful that her body was settled along his side rather than his front. He might have definite ideas about the hows and whens of being with her, but his body wasn't quite so particular and could be quite convincing if given the opportunity.

"We didn't get the light," he told her softly. He'd had it on just a little so he could watch her while she was sleeping. It hadn't seemed to bother her, though.

"Leave it," she recommended. "I don't want to move."

He just smiled.

"What were you doing up, anyway?" she asked.

He thought about lying to her, but there didn't seem to be a point. "Just wasn't tired. I didn't want to wake you."

"I'm glad you did," she told him. "I hate nightmares."

"You ready to talk about it?"

"It's dumb."

"Try me," he suggested. "I've had some pretty stupid dreams myself, and some of them kept me up for hours."

"I was on patrol," she said softly. "Then the stars went out like lights, and the canopy turned solid black and started closing in." She shook her head, but he felt the shiver that had gone down her at the memory.

"It doesn't take a psychiatrist to figure that one out," he told her with a gentle squeeze. "You've had a rough week."

"I know, but"

"What?"

"When I start having nightmares about Vipers, it bothers me. It's the one place I really love to be. I don't want this to screw it up. And the only way I know to get past it is to get in the thing and fly — get things back to normal — and it's not a possibility for another couple of weeks at least. So I'm just stuck with it."

He didn't have an answer for her. She was right. "Anything I can do?" he finally asked.

"You're doing it," she said with a gentle squeeze. "You're here."

"It's the best place to be," he told her quietly. "I've always loved holding you. Well, in recent memory, anyway," he added with a chuckle. "Wasn't always thrilled to have my bed invaded at two in the morning when I was a kid."

"You never complained, though," she said softly. "You just squished me in between you and Zak, and more often than not woke up on the floor. Seems like you were always taking care of us."

"Is that bad?"

"No," she admitted. "But sometimes I wonder"

"Spit it out," he told her. He could tell by her tone that he wasn't going to like what came next.

"I guess I wonder if that's still what you're doing, sometimes," she told him. "You take care of the squad, and you keep an eye on your dad for what good it does. I guess it sometimes feels like that's why you're here for me, too. And I don't really mind it," she told him with a quick glance up to meet his eyes. "But I sometimes wonder if you kind of put up with me. Because you have to, or feel like you have to, instead of because you want to."

He thought about it for a moment. His first instinct was to deny it outright, but if she'd been concerned enough to ask he had to at least give the matter some honest consideration. "Obligation, you mean?"

"Yeah," she answered.

He thought some more. "I don't think so," he decided. "Not with you or my dad, actually. Sometimes with the squad, but that's a little different. With you, I stay close because I worry. I need to know you're okay. It's not an obligation, but it's something that I have to do because if you're not okay, then I'm not okay. Does that make any sense?"

"A little," she said. "And your dad?"

He thought some more. "There's obligation," he admitted. "I mean, he took pretty good care of us over the years, and I like being able to give something back even if it's just someone to talk to. But mostly, I think it's because I need him too. We all need him — without a commander we're just drifting — but knowing he's running the show makes me feel a little safer." He shrugged at his own words. "It isn't supposed to make sense. Feelings usually don't."

"So, I'm not a responsibility?" she asked again, seeming to need the confirmation.

"You're a pleasure," he told her with a light kiss to her forehead. "Besides, I got a small glimpse of what it might be like around here without you, and that's something I don't think I can live with. When you were" He took a deep breath and tried again. It hit him at the strangest times, the realization that he could have lost her. He didn't like the absolute fear that the thought brought him. "I need you here," he told her. "With me, as close as possible. So, I guess you're stuck with me."

"I can handle that," she told him. Her voice was sounding sleepy again, and he hoped that she'd drop back off. He had two reasons for that. First, she needed the rest. It was awfully late for her to be up and chatting. And second, he loved to watch her sleep. She didn't relax often, and didn't let down the defenses she shored up against everyone, including him. When she was asleep, she didn't have the guarded expression or the cynical glint in her eye. When she slept, she was just Kara, and not Lieutenant Thrace or Starbuck. When she was Kara, she was his.

"Night, Lee," she mumbled, her hand grabbing a handful of his shirts and holding on tight. He smiled at that, too. Only when she was sleeping did she really admit she needed him. He liked feeling needed. And it didn't have anything to do with obligation, either. It had to do with the way he needed her, and the relief in knowing that it was mutual.

"Night, Kara," he told her softly. But he didn't go to sleep; not for a very long time. He just watched her.


	12. Dumb Discussions

Chapter 12

Kara needed a shower. Well, more than the shower, she needed to wash her hair. It hadn't been a possibility in the Life Station, and the day before she'd been too tired from no more than walking to Lee's room — their room — to worry with it. So she'd gone straight to bed, and Lee had watched over her for hours before joining her. In all, it had been a strange night.

Everything had been strange for the last four days. The first day had begun under a Viper and she had little memory of the rest of it. The second wasn't much better. The third she could definitely remember through a haze of pain. She'd gone off the pain medication that day, and she'd regretted it mightily by the end of the day. And yesterday had swung from wonderful to mortifying to amazing. She was still reeling. 

One minute she was just glad to be alive, and the next she was feeling lousy because it hurt to move. For a few minutes she was annoyed that Lee was back at work part of the time, and the next she was aggravated that he was showing up to check on her. Part of the time she was angry at the whole situation, and at other times she was enjoying the extra attention and visits from friends. She didn't know how to feel about any of it, but the roller coaster was making her dizzy. She wanted to just settle in and stop feeling for a while — mentally and physically.

But first she needed to get a shower. She had eased herself carefully out of bed so that she wouldn't wake Lee. She didn't know how late he'd finally stayed up, but it must have been well after she'd drifted off. He never slept in, and this morning he was out cold. So Kara quietly searched in her locker for a clean pair of underwear and tank top. She debated on putting on another pair of sweats, but decided against it. Lee was still in bed, and warm, so she'd just cuddle up with him after she got clean.

Despite the chill of the water, she had to admit that it felt good to have more than a washcloth taking away days of accumulated yuck. She doused her hair, washed it thoroughly despite the discomfort of raising her arms over her head, and then after rinsing she washed it again. She did the same thing to her body, taking a quick inventory of herself as she did so. She would have loved to have had a full length mirror, but she didn't think there even was one aboard the Galactica. She had to settle for what she could see on her own.

Her legs were a mess. Everything above the knee was very bruised, black and blue with yellowing around the edges of the brighter colors. Her stomach wasn't all that discolored, but her chest was another matter entirely. Breasts and ribs were blue and green in alternating patterns depending on where flesh got between bone and the Viper. Her upper chest had taken the worst of it, and both collar bones were still tender to the touch. That was the area that looked the worse, and appeared to be healing the slowest. It seemed odd to her, as she had felt that most of the pressure had been on her ribs, but apparently pressure points were more of a problem than the actual amount of pressure. She had similar tender areas on her back the back of her hipbones had met the deck, and her shoulder blades as well, although she couldn't see if they looked as bad.

In all, it was fairly minor compared to what could have happened, and now that the pain had receded to a dull ache she was better able to take it in stride. She didn't allow herself to really think about it. When she thought about it she got shaky because she knew just how much worse it could have been.

But that didn't mean it was pretty. And as childish, and female, and utterly stupid as it seemed, right now Kara wanted to be pretty. It just seemed the ultimate irony to finally realize that she'd fallen in love — and that it was mutual — and she couldn't stand to look at herself, much less have Lee look at her. She wasn't vain, but there was a line, and right now she was way on the other side of it.

At the very least she was clean. She took an extra couple of minutes to add a little lotion to her elbows and knees from her precious supply left over from her last birthday before Caprica had been destroyed. It didn't have much scent left, but she still treasured it because it was one of the last things she'd received from Iilya Adama. Every time Kara saw the little bottle with flowers on it, she thought of the mother she had always wished was hers. As Kara didn't remember a thing about her own mother, she didn't think it did any harm.

She dried her hair with a towel, then combed it straight back from her face so it was out of the way. One last look in the mirror had her frowning. She looked beyond awful, but she couldn't do a damned thing about it. Oh well; he hadn't fallen in love with her looks, she imagined. 

She put on her clean underwear and a single tank top, then made her way quietly back to the bed. Lee was still lying there, unmoving and quiet, so she eased herself under the covers and snuggled back against his warm body with a sigh. At the very least she felt human once more. The shifting of Lee's body didn't really surprise her, as she hadn't been exactly warm when she'd moved up against him. There was nothing like having an icicle in your bed to wake you up.

"Cold," he muttered, grabbing her about the waist and pulling her into the length of his body. She wouldn't stay cold for long.

"Clean," she told him over her shoulder. "It was worth it."

He nuzzled his face into her neck, sniffing dramatically. "Mmm," he told her with a mumble. "Nice." 

"Thanks," she returned with a light kick back into his shin. It hurt her more than it did him, because she had to bend her leg to do it.

"Hey," he told her with a laugh. "That was a compliment."

"Which is why you're not doubled over," she told him in return. "I've got pretty good aim when I try."

His soft laugh washed over her as she snuggled herself back into his lap. She felt his hand along her arm, trailing around the neck of the tank, and wandering down the length of the material. "What are you doing?" she asked. There was no accusation in her voice; just curiosity.

"Playing around," he admitted as he slipped his fingers beneath the hem of the tank top and began lifting it slightly.

"Hey!"

"I won't do anything," he muttered, and she could hear the smile in his voice. She felt the hem of the shirt rising, and for a minute she thought about stopping him. He wouldn't do anything she didn't allow; she knew him better than that.

"God, Kara," he whispered.

It took her a moment to register the change in his voice. He'd gone from playful to deadly serious, and for the briefest of moments she didn't have a clue why. Then she felt his hand at her shoulder blade, and wished desperately that she'd bothered to turn off the lights. The truth was, she hadn't had the lights off since before they'd pulled her out from under the Viper — the dark made her edgy — but the light had its disadvantages as well, and she'd recently seen them for herself.

"Is it all this bad?" he asked softly. His finger trailed across her upper back, where he'd lifted her shirt to check.

"Mostly," she admitted. "It doesn't hurt that much though," she lied.

He moved back slightly, using a gentle hand on one leg to coax her onto her back. Then he gently moved the waistband of her underwear down and the tank top up, his gaze not locked on any the places that she might want him checking, but rather focused on the black, blue, and green marks that colored her ribs and lower abdomen. At least he'd had the courtesy not to raise the shirt above her breasts. She didn't think she could have handled that particular look in his eye when she was truly exposed.

He didn't say a word. She couldn't have if her life had depended on it, and at the moment she almost felt that it did. What did you say to someone who was holding your heart in his hands?

So carefully she barely felt it, he placed a gentle kiss in the middle of her stomach, between the bruised areas above and the bruised areas below, and then just as gently laid his head there.

"Lee?" 

"Yeah?"

"You okay?" she asked.

He laughed very softly. "You can ask? Kara, I knew what happened; I was there when they pulled you out, and in the Life Station afterwards, but I don't think I realized"

"I'm okay," she reminded him, threading her fingers through his short hair, absently enjoying the texture. "Just a little colorful."

"A little?"

"Maybe a lot," she admitted, but she was smiling when she did it. "But that doesn't mean you can treat me like a china doll. I bend very well; I don't break."

"But you could," he told her softly. "I guess I just never realized that you could." She watched as he finally lifted his head and met her eyes. "What would I do if you weren't here?"

She almost fired off a sarcastic retort — something like she would have come up with even as recently as a week ago — but the look on his face stopped her. He was serious. "I'm here," she said with a pointed grin. "I'm not going anywhere."

His smile was as sad as it was gentle. "That's a promise you can't make," he told her carefully. "But you're here now, and I don't plan to waste that."

"So don't," she advised. "Get up here and get me back to sleep."

He gave a chuckle. "Bossy," he complained.

"Your point?"

"Don't have one," he admitted as he slid up her body and quickly rearranged her clothes to where they had been before. "You'd tell me if I hurt you, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, yeah," she assured him. "I'm really okay. Yeah, it hurts. Sometimes I hurt more than others. Right now I'm fine, so let's get some rest."

"You slept all last night," he said in mock complaint.

"You didn't," she reminded him. "So quit complaining."

"How do you know?" he grumbled as he wrapped his arms around her and tugged her in close. She rested her head in her favorite place at his shoulder, and eased one leg up over his.

"I know," she insisted, not elaborating. "When do you have to be up, anyway."

"Around eleven," he told her. "I'm on mid-watch."

"Sounds good," she decided. "You can keep me warm until then."

Kara was bored. Not bored out of her mind, but nevertheless she was sick of sitting and doing nothing. She glanced at her watch again to see that Lee still had another hour before his watch was over. He wasn't on patrol, so he should be back by twenty-four hundred. Technically, she should be sleeping.

She wasn't tired. She was bored.

With a sigh she tossed the book she'd been trying to read onto Lee's desk, then shifted herself trying to get comfortable. Sitting up wasn't getting it done. After a few more minutes of being miserable, she moved over to the bed to stack both her and Lee's pillows and lay down. It took the pressure off aching muscles, but it didn't occupy her mind.

The sound of the hatch opening startled her, but she was pleased. "You're early," she told him with a smile. Lords, she hated the way she sounded — like she'd been waiting for him. So what if she had; she didn't like sounding that way.

Lee shrugged one shoulder. "I brought a lot of it with me," he admitted reluctantly. "A few performance reports and one or two efficiency evaluations. I can do it here as easily as there. It is my office, after all."

"So why don't you work out of here?" she asked him. She had wondered before, but had never bothered to ask. While Lee used the desk as his base, most of his work seemed to get done in either the pilots ready room or on the hangar bays. Sometimes he even worked in CIC, although he hated it there. He wasn't much for being tied to a desk.

"You're distracting," he told her as he bent over and kissed her softly on the lips. "How you feeling?"

"Same old thing," she said casually. "Anything there I can help with?"

He turned a sarcastic glance her way. "You want to do paperwork?" he asked her.

"I'm bored," she told him firmly. "And before you ask, yes, I'm that bored. What do you have?"

He was smiling when he handed her a couple of folders. "I should get Salik to clear you for light duty," he suggested. "Then you could do all my paperwork."

"Not damn likely," she told him as she took the folders and flipped the first one open, holding pages in place with her fingers because she wasn't going to sit up. It was an efficiency rating scale on one of the cadets she'd been working with, and should have been her job in the first place. Lee knew it, she was sure. "They hung you with my work, too?" she asked.

"Yes and no," he said with another shrug. "Evans liked days, so I left him there for now. He's been managing rosters and such, so I just have to look them over. That leaves me with the equipment checks and paperwork. Until you're back, yours is in the stack too. Evans does what he can of it during the day, but I was going to have to check with you on those anyway."

She took the opportunity to glare at him. "No wonder you showed up early," she muttered, but any offence was faked. She didn't mind carrying her load, especially when it gave her something to do. "Well, at least grab me a pen."

He grinned at her as he sat down in the desk chair and reached around to his desk. After fishing around for a few moments he grumbled, "Can't find one."

She rolled her eyes at him. No surprise — he rarely worked there. "My locker," she instructed. "Top shelf, on the left, in the little basket."

"Precise," he said. "So why are your uniforms thrown in there?"

"They're too big to lose," she admitted.

He stood up and walked over to her locker, following her instructions. Maybe it wasn't quite as easy as she'd made it sound, but she knew the basket was in there. Pens were becoming a precious commodity, and she kept close tabs on hers. She watched as he shifted a few things, then bent over and appeared to pick something up. He was very still after that, looking at whatever he'd found on the floor. Too still. It worried her.

"Lee? Whaccha got?"

"Just this," he told her, showing her the back of the folded picture she kept tucked into her locker. She didn't see what the big deal was, though. He'd seen it before. They'd talked about it before.

"What's up?" she asked. She wasn't as worried, though. Not now.

"Just"

He had walked back over to her and had sat on the edge of the bed. She was lying on it, flat on her back except for both of their pillows behind her, looking up at his concerned expression. For some reason, it made her nervous. She laid the folders down at her side so she could talk to him.

"Just what?"

He shook his head. "It's stupid. Don't worry about it."

If there was ever a way to worry her, it was to tell her not to worry. Such a statement would indicate that whatever the problem was would upset her. And he knew her well enough that if he thought this — whatever it was — would upset her, he likely had a good reason.

"You've already started it," she told him as she rolled to her side, slid her legs past him and off the bed, and used her arms to get into a sitting position. Damn, but moving around still hurt. "Now finish it."

He was silent for a long moment. She waited. Sometimes a person could learn more from waiting than from asking, or so he had once told her. She'd always preferred the more direct approach of physical violence. But she was in no shape to hit him, so she waited. At some time during the long silence, he reached over and took her hand in his, lightly tracing the veins and creases on the skin, almost absently stroking her wrist and palm. She had no clue what was on his mind.

"Do you believe in dreams?" he asked her finally.

"No," she answered quickly. "I can't. More often than not I have nightmares, so if I believed they had any importance at all, then I'd probably go insane."

He smiled at that, but it looked weak to her. "Promise not to go ballistic?" he finally asked her.

She would have probably been more concerned if he hadn't looked so uncertain. Chalking it all up to the mysteries of male insecurity, she nodded. She wouldn't go off now, in any case. Depending on what he said — or didn't say — she could always belt him later.

"I had a dumb dream," he finally told her. "It was quite a while ago, and what was in it wasn't important. But it got me thinking. And I want to ask you something, but I'm not sure if I want to know the answer." He looked at her sheepishly, then down at the picture that he was still holding. "But I have to ask it," he finally admitted. "So I guess I need to know."

"Ask what?" She really didn't understand what all the trouble was. Answering questions was something she was usually pretty good at.

"About Zak."

Ahh. It made sense now. But she wasn't as reluctant to talk about him as she had once been. She'd made a certain peace with his memory, and she'd honestly thought Lee had too. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Lee was still not sure of his place with her. "What about Zak?" she prompted.

"You loved him," he said. It wasn't a question.

"We've already established that," she reminded him. "We both loved him."

He shook his head, still not looking at her. It was getting on her nerves. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do. But I'm not sure where this conversation is going."

"Me neither," he admitted, and finally she saw a shadow of a real smile. "Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut."

"Probably," she agreed. "But you've opened it now, so let's finish it."

"The two of you were together for what, four years?"

"Five," she corrected. "Sometimes it seems like longer though, because the friendship and the rest got kind of tangled up." She looked at Lee pointedly. "Sound familiar?"

"I don't know," he told her, giving a quick glance but still not really meeting her eyes. "I guess that's what I'm asking."

"This conversation isn't making any sense," she decided. "If you have a point, I wish you'd make it. You said you had a question?"

"You and Zak were together five years," he said. She just stared. She'd just told him that. She wasn't repeating herself. "How long of that were you"

She waited for him to continue. He didn't. In exasperation, she prompted, "Lovers?"

He nodded, and his eyes were steadily fixed on the photo he was still holding. He had long since released her hand, which she now noted was clenched into a fist, along with its twin. With a deep breath, she did her best to relax. Tensing her muscles hurt. He wanted honesty. She'd give it to him. "If you go back to the first time, about a year," she explained. "But after the first we were pretty wary of each other. Neither of us knew what to do with it. That first time just sort of happened. We didn't expect it. So we stayed clear for about six months before we figured things out."

"So, six months?" he asked. Finally, he faced her. "I guess I thought it was longer. You two were always together."

She glared at him. "Lee, we're always together, and we've never had sex. Besides, what does it matter?"

"It doesn't," he admitted. Then with a sigh, he began to explain. "When we were all growing up, the three of us, we were like a team. Half the time it was you and I, and then Zak. Sometimes it was Zak and I, and you were on the outside. I was always part of the equation somehow. But when the two of you paired off, it put me on the outside. I didn't think about it much then because I was busy with school, and then the academy, and then teaching. But after you announced the engagement I really started thinking of you as I don't know Zak's. Instead of being sort of between us, you were with him. Does that make any sense?"

"Some," she admitted. "But the weird part is that Zak always thought he was on the outside."

"What?"

"It bugged him," she explained. "You and I were the same age, and we liked the same things; had a lot in common. He always felt like he was on the outside, or at least that's what he told me. I thought it was dumb then; I guess I still do. Mostly I think he was a little jealous of you. He just about idolized you, probably because you're so much like your dad, and I know he practically worshiped him. Half of the reason it took us so long to figure things out is because he wasn't sure where I stood with you." She gave a laugh, but even to her own ears it sounded forced. "Ironic, really. He figured I was yours, and you figure I'm his. I wonder when someone's going to figure out that I belong to myself."

"You know I don't mean it that way," he said, looking up and reaching out to take her hand back. "I know it's stupid. I understand that. Rationally, this conversation shouldn't even be taking place."

"We can agree on that," she muttered, but she didn't withdraw her hand. She sensed there was something important going on beneath the surface of the conversation, and while she didn't really understand it yet, neither was she ready to dismiss it.

Over many years, one of the things that Kara had learned about Lee was that he usually had a reason for what he did, even if she didn't always know what the heck that reason was. It was one of the things she liked best about him. She wasn't one for comparing most things, but when she'd been with Zak, very often he hadn't had much of an agenda beyond making her laugh. At that point in her life it had been what she needed. Yet while Lee had the same capability, albeit in a drier form, he also had the maturity to know when jokes weren't appropriate. She didn't think this conversation had been started just to see where it would go. He didn't take risks like that.

"I don't know why I even brought it up," he told her with a sigh. "Hell, it's all been over for five years."

"Yes, it has been," she agreed.

"Why doesn't it feel that way?"

She thought about it for a few minutes. "Maybe it hasn't been over for you that long," she suggested. "You said that you thought of me as Zak's. When did that start? When we were engaged?"

He shrugged. "I think so."

"So, I know you still felt that way when you got to the Galactica; you made it pretty clear. That's well over two years right there. Was it a while after that before you started thinking of me without it being part of a set that included him?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "And I'm not sure when I quit. Maybe when you pulled me off that damned planet against orders. Everything seemed different after that."

"Okay, so that was about a year ago. Yes?"

He nodded.

She finally smiled at him. "Do the math, Lee. You spent four years thinking of me with him, and only one with me as an individual. Give yourself time to get used to it. Just because we think we want more, that doesn't mean we need it today."

"It isn't even about sex," he told her. "Hell, I don't know what it's about. It was just a dumb dream, and then he was just there. I don't know why I even remember it. Can we just forget this conversation happened? Please?"

"Nope. It happened, and it's a damned good thing," she said with a smile.

"That one you can explain," he told her bitterly as he ducked his head with what could have been embarrassment. She thought it was sweet.

"Fine. Answer this question: How many women have you slept with?"

She almost laughed at how wide his eyes got, and the blush that crept up his face. "There's no right way to answer that question," he finally said.

"Try the truth. Do you know?"

"Yes, I know," he muttered, sounding offended.

"So how many?"

He looked down. He looked up. He looked steadily at her chin. She was loving this. There was making him uncomfortable, and then there was torture. She had definitely entered the latter category, and it was damned fun. She might not be able to physically assault him, but she could still hit him where it hurt. "Six," he finally answered.

"Okay, fair enough. Next question: How many of those did you sleep with more than once?"

"If you didn't already know that answer, I don't think you'd be asking. I've already told you that sex has screwed up every relationship that got that far. It's one of the main reasons that I didn't let it go that far very often."

"Lee, this is important," she told him carefully. "Because with Zak and me, after that first time, we couldn't even look at each other afterwards. Truthfully, we were playing around and it got out of hand. We didn't know what to say, or what to do, and it would have been so much easier if we could have just walked out of one another's lives. If we hadn't been so tied together by everyone we knew and all that we'd always done, I'm pretty sure we wouldn't have made it past that. But we had enough history and friendship between us that we had to make it through the awkwardness and force it to work. We had too much at stake if we screwed up."

"And that relates to this discussion how?" But he was looking at her, and the embarrassment was fading a little from his features. He was listening.

"Because this discussion is a perfect example of being awkward and stupid. It shouldn't have happened. I don't know what you were thinking, but there was no point to any of it."

"Thanks," he muttered.

"It's a good thing," she told him with a smile, and not a small measure of relief. "You were worried that sex would make things awkward with us, or that Zak being in the background would be more than we could manage. Lee, it all comes down to what we're willing to work out, and what's at stake if we don't. This conversation is dumb, but it's a pretty minor screw up, don't you think?"

"I don't think at all," he said with disgust as he stood and walked back towards her locker to put the picture back in its place.

She stood up and followed behind him so that when he turned around he was right up against her. She put her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Lee, think about it," she said softly. "This is as awkward as it gets, and we're still here. Neither of us walked out, and neither of us is going away. We care too much about one another to let feeling stupid get in the way."

"So you're saying that if we could get through this conversation, then we can get through sex?" Lee asked, but the amusement was pretty clear in his voice. He wasn't nervous anymore, and he wasn't backing away. He had even brought his arms up around her, although that might have been an automatic reaction to her hug. Still, she thought he might actually be getting it.

"Probably, but sex isn't going to happen," she said softly.

Lee was silent for a while, but his arms stayed around her. She stood there in the circle of his arms, and she had to wonder what he must be thinking. After a few more minutes though, the silence started to bother her. The joke wasn't nearly as much fun with Lee not knowing the punch line.

"You still with me?" she asked him.

"I'm here," he answered. He didn't elaborate.

"Don't get too worried," she told him, and she couldn't keep the smile off her face. She pushed back a little so that she could look him in the eye, and she nearly laughed at the disappointment she saw there. It was damned good for her ego. "We'll get around to making love. Sex though?" she shook her head at that. "I don't think we could do it. Too much heart involved this far in."

She watched as a combination of relief and understanding washed across his features, and finally a smile broke through. "Cute," he muttered.

"Scare you?" she asked. She liked keeping him on his toes.

"Most of the time you do," he told her wryly.

"Get used to it," she advised. "I'm not going anywhere."


	13. A Talk with Dad

Chapter 13

William Adama looked up as he heard the knock on the hatch. It was late – or rather early – and he didn't know many people who would bother him at this time of the morning. The Galactica ran twenty-four hours a day, but most of the non-essential staff kept fairly regular hours. Lieutenant Gaeta was manning CIC at the moment, and William knew that if this was an urgent situation he'd be on the com rather than at his door.

So it was with some curiosity but with no real worry that he opened his door. "Lee?" he said in surprise.

"Hi," his son said in a sheepish voice. He looked very uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other as he had done when he was a child who constantly worried about being in trouble. "Do you have a few minutes?"

"Of course," William told him, stepping back from the door and ushering his son inside. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Sure," Lee said with a shrug. "If it's made."

"It's always made," his father told him with a wry tone. "Some days it's all that keeps me going."

"So at least I didn't wake you," Lee commented as he took a seat at the foot of his father's bed. "Lieutenant Gaeta said you'd only been off for a couple of hours, so I thought you might still be up."

The eldest Adama turned to his son with a cup of coffee in hand, giving it to him with a smile. "There's always something to be done," he explained. "And it's always easier to sleep when it just happens. If I try to lie down early, I'm up for hours. If I work until I drop, it seems a good deal easier."

Lee smiled. "And the work still doesn't all get done," he added.

"There does always seem to be enough to stay busy," William admitted as he took a seat at his desk and faced his son. Somehow he didn't think it was work that had brought Lee to him in the middle of the night. "Even at three in the morning."

Lee nodded as he took a sip from the cup. He gave the usual grimace – coffee just wasn't what it used to be – but he didn't complain openly. Lee had never been one to complain.

"Do I need to ask why you're here?" William said softly.

Another shrug, and another embarrassed smile. As tentative as the approach was, William was simply grateful that at least his son could come to him now, whatever the problem might be or whenever the time of day or night.

"No," Lee finally said. "I'll get there."

William just smiled at him. From the time he'd been a small boy, Lee had done things at his own pace and in his own way. As a concerned father, it had made him crazy. Gradually though, he had realized that his son nearly always got things done, and done well. He might take his time, but normally the result was worth the wait. He never did anything half-way.

Finally his son sighed. "You know about me and Kara?" he asked.

William nodded. Frankly, he'd known something was there long before he thought either of the young couple had. A father could recognize these things; even a father who had missed a good portion of his child's life. It hadn't surprised him then, nor did the conversation now. "I had a feeling," he admitted. "Of course, that was more than a year ago. I wondered when you two would get around to something more than dancing around one another."

Lee grinned at that. "Is there anything you don't know?" he asked, but it was without rancor.

"Not on my ship," William told him with a matching smile. "It pays to keep on top of these things."

"I'll bet," Lee told him. Then his face sobered and he met his father's eyes with a true concern. "Are you okay with it?"

"With?"

"Kara and I being more than friends," Lee clarified.

"It's not really my choice now, is it?" he asked.

Lee shook his head. "I didn't expect this to happen," he admitted. "I really thought that she'd always be Zak's. I never would have"

Adama's smile softened. "I know that," he said. "You have a stronger sense of ethics than any three men I know. You wouldn't have looked twice at her if Zak had lived. And that's fine, because I doubt she'd have looked at you either – not that way. But I can't say this surprises me."

"It sure as hell surprised me," Lee muttered.

William looked at his son for a moment longer, then asked, "Why?"

"Pardon?"

"Why did it surprise you?" he asked. "You're the same age, you've been friends for as long as you remember I'm sure, and you both have a great deal in common both in and out of the air. Why does it surprise you that your relationship would progress?"

"She's a friend," Lee told him. "I think that was first and foremost. I didn't realize I could think of a friend that way, but now"

"Now you can't imagine seeing her any other way?"

Lee laughed softly. "Damn. How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Read my mind," Lee said with a smirk.

"Practice," William told his son with a wink. "And in this case good eyesight." He reached up and removed his glasses, looking at them critically. "For some things, anyway."

Lee nodded, and his smile remained intact as he took a sip of the coffee. No grimace this time. One did tend to get used to it. Eventually.

"I never understood her being with Zak," Lee said softly, his smile finally fading. "They had nothing in common, and Zak always seemed like a kid to me. I mean, I understood the friendship – we all had that – but not the relationship. I even told Zak that once. He just laughed at me and said that I was blinder than a bat, and he was damned grateful."

William took a deep breath before answering. He didn't want to offend Lee – and their relationship still seemed to be so fragile to him, so he didn't want to risk damaging it – but he saw something that he knew his son might not have. 

"You were very mature as a young adult," William remembered aloud. "Too mature, sometimes. You didn't bother much with dating and you didn't have many friends, but could sure make the grades and you held your own in student government. I wondered then if you'd grown up too fast. I was proud of you – very proud – but I suppose I wondered if you'd missed a few things along the way. I suppose I have my answer now. 

"You were absolutely practical. I understood it, and I have always respected that about you, maybe because I tend to be the same way. You never did anything without a purpose, and a good one at that. Now Zak, on the other hand, was very much like his mother. He had a soft heart, and he cared more about having a good time than getting the job done. It was a foreign concept to me. Your mother used to make me crazy."

"Me too," Lee remarked with a sad smile. "And Kara always fell somewhere in between Zak and I. She could be serious about what she really wanted, but she seemed to find ways to have a good time while she was at it."

"She was able to balance things," William agreed. "But I think if given the opportunity she would have been a lot more like you than like Zak. She can be very driven when it comes to what she wants, and while she manages to have a good time, she does have to work at it."

"What do you mean?"

"Kara is intense," William explained. "I saw some of it when she was younger, but Zak always seemed to be able to tease her out of that when she got too far in. After the accident, she didn't have him to do it. She was more than a little lost. I think she'd lost that balance, and I have to wonder how much of it Zak had supplied. He was the one that talked her out of studying and into dating, and he was the one who dragged her around to the sports events and school activities. She didn't do very much that was extra-curricular for the first three years of high school, but once Zak was a freshman he got her into everything. Do you remember?"

"Some," he admitted. "I was usually preoccupied, though. Keeping my grades up and staying on top of things took most of my attention."

"That, and you didn't follow your little brother around much."

"No," Lee admitted. "I didn't. I expected him to follow me. He always had before then"

"He always had," William echoed softly. "Once he hit high school, he went his own way. Probably because you were a little busy."

"Too busy," Lee corrected, sadness no longer a mere shadow in his voice. "Sometimes I really wish I'd spent more time with him. I just didn't realize"

"None of us did," William told him. "Especially Kara. She had a lot of trouble accepting his death."

"You do know why, don't you?" Lee asked.

William nodded. "That was part of it," he answered indirectly, referring to Kara's unintentional contribution to putting Zak in the plane that had killed him. "But another part was that lack of balance. Zak kept her centered. When she lost that, I don't think she was sure how to find it again. It took time. I wondered if she'd ever bring herself back from it, but she's stronger than I've given her credit for. She's quite a survivor."

"She's always had to be," Lee agreed quietly. He looked up and locked his gaze with Williams. It was all the eldest Adama could do not to look away from his son's intensity. "I never got to thank you for what you did for her. I was so busy being angry at you that I didn't even see what losing him had done to her - not until years later. She told me once that you'd saved her life."

William shook his head. "I only gave her time, and a place to be."

"And a reason to get up every day," Lee added. "And someone to keep an eye on, and care about. She also said you never let her thank you."

"There was no reason," William argued uncomfortably. "It was as much for me as for her, if you want to know the truth. Worrying about her made it easier not to think about him, and it gave me a reason to get up in the morning. I should have been thanking her."

"And I should have been there for you."

William did his best to ignore the pain in his son's voice, the regret. "You did the best you could with what you were given," he said gently. "I never blamed you for your assumptions. I regretted them, of course. I wish we'd had that time together, but we can't turn back the clock."

"I wouldn't want to," Lee admitted with a sigh. "I couldn't go through that again, not even with knowing the truth. Losing him" Lee shook his head before looking away. "Kara wasn't the only one he kept anchored. I've always had a temper, but he was the one person who could help me find something funny to keep me blowing up. I guess Kara does that for me now. I've never really learned to do it for myself."

"He was a good son, and brother," William said. "And he would have been a wonderful husband. I'm sure he and Kara would have done well together. But it wasn't meant to be, Lee. Kara shouldn't have to be alone because fate took him from her. Even Zak wouldn't have wanted that. He would have wanted both of you to be happy."

"That's what she said, "Lee told him. "I won't tell you that I don't feel guilty some of the time, because I do. More than I want to. I wonder why I was the one who lived to be with her, and not him. I wonder what she sees in me after being with him. I wonder, but I'm learning not to question it so much."

"That's the balance," William told him with a smile. "But I will tell you something else. If I had to think of someone who could take care of Kara – keep her in line maybe, and yet let her be herself – I couldn't imagine anyone doing a better job of it than you. The two of you have always been formidable. I won't tell you that I expected it," he clarified with a raised eyebrow. "But I can't help being pleased about it. It's a father's right to want his children to be happy and cared for. You'll be good for one another."

Lee smiled at that. "Or kill each other trying," he added. 

William shook his head and did his best to stifle a smile, then stood to go refill his cup. When he gestured to the coffee pot and glanced at Lee, the younger man shook his head. William filled his own cup and then returned to sit in his chair by the desk once more. "Is that all you needed? Your old man's approval?"

Lee shrugged at that, and the cautious smile was back again. "I guess that sounds stupid to you," he admitted. "I've been saying a lot of stupid things lately. But it's not really approval I want, or a blessing. Just I wanted to make sure the it wouldn't upset you. She's practically family, and you two have always been there for one another. I didn't want to mess up what you have with her."

"Because she's involved with you?"

Lee nodded.

"That's almost funny," he said with a smile. "And it's not. I couldn't ever be upset so long as she was happy. I think it's interesting though. You're still more worried about what I think of her than how I think of you."

"I'm used to having people mad at me," Lee admitted. "If I hadn't been before, the CAG position would have made sure of it. But Kara she has a softer heart that most people realize. She hides it pretty well with the attitude and streak of violence, but it's there just the same. So yeah, I wanted to make sure she was okay. I wonder where I got that protective streak?" Lee asked with sarcasm clear in his voice.

William gave him a wink. "She's a strong woman," he said thoughtfully. "That strength almost makes a man want to take even better care of her, doesn't it?"

"She can take care of herself," Lee corrected with a shake of his head, setting the empty coffee cup down on the small table next to the bed. "She has to remind me of that occasionally, though. And what happened this week" Lee's voice trailed off, as though it hurt too much to finish.

"Scared the hell out of you?" Adama asked without a smile. 

"Yeah."

William nodded. When he had heard what had happened, it had taken all his strength to stay in CIC until he could reach Tigh to take over for him. He had been an inch from leaving regardless of the command coverage when Lieutenant Gaeta had relayed that Lee was on his way down to the hangar. Knowing his son would be there had assured him that anything that could be done, would be done. It wasn't that he had any doubts at all about his deck crews, but Lee had a way of bringing out the best in those he worked with. William had known that he could do no better himself, and that had enabled him to wait until he could at least reach Tigh and get him on his way there. He still hadn't managed to wait for his arrival before leaving to check on her in the Life Station, however briefly.

The other thing that had reassured him had been knowing that Kara wouldn't be alone. The one element of Zak's death that continued to haunt William, even years later, was that Zak had died alone. He'd been the only person in the Viper, and he'd been gone by the time they could get to him. The accident had been mercifully fast, but nonetheless he'd had no one with him; he'd had no physical contact with another human being, when his life had ended. Kara had been in the control room, and had been one of the first officers on the scene, but at the moment of his death, Zak had had no one. Why it mattered, William had no idea. But it did. When Gaeta had told him that Lee was on his way to the hangar, William had known that there was no way she would die alone. At the very least, her family, whether related by blood or not, would have been close by.

"It terrified me," William said softly. "It would have been a horrible way to lose Viper, and the risks she takes are sometimes just this side of insane – but that would have at least been in battle. She would have died doing what she loved best. But to die on the ground."

Lee just nodded. 

"So, what's next?"

Lee smiled. "No idea," he admitted. "We're still figuring things out, though. It feels odd not to have a clue what's going to happen in my own life. I just know I need her there, or it's not worth it." He looked up and met his father's eyes. "Now I know that I sound stupid."

William leaned back in the chair and gave an indulgent smile. He needed to get his mind off the morbid turn it had taken. Kara was alive, and healing, and there was no reason to dwell on what might have happened. "I remember that feeling," he admitted. "Lords, it's been a long time. But when your mother and I met, I didn't know what to do with myself. I was a pilot, not a husband. I wanted my own command, and she wanted a family. I thought we could do both. In a way we did, at least at first. In the end I suppose she did most of it herself. I never realized it really, but Iilya was as strong as Kara in her own way. She raised the three of you with very little help from me."

"Mom was great," Lee agreed. "I don't remember much of the two of you together, though. She always told us about you, but even when you were home the two of you never really seemed to be together."

"Your mother needed something I wasn't willing to give her," William said sadly. "In truth, it was very unfair of me to marry her. But we were young, and in love, and she was so beautiful that I couldn't say no. I knew I couldn't stay grounded; I didn't have it in me. She knew it too, I think, although she didn't realize all that it meant. She never complained about my being gone, or my visits back. She was very accepting. Perhaps things would have been different if she hadn't been so lenient with me."

"Are you ever sorry?"

William thought about that. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there for her," he admitted. "And that I missed so much when you and Zak were growing up. Every time I visited you'd each grown several inches, and had changed so very much. The time went so quickly But I don't know that I'd change my career. It's who I am, Lee. It's who I've always been."

"Mom was never angry," Lee told him. "Anytime Zak and I got upset because you weren't there for something, she just reminded us of how the fleet's protection was what made everything in our lives possible. She was always so proud to be the wife of a Colonial Warrior. Even after the divorce, she wouldn't hear a word against you. We had some very colorful arguments," he said with a grin. "She and I both believed that you had pushed Zak into that cockpit. But she was never angry. Sad, yes, but never angry. I couldn't understand that kind of love." He raised his eyes to his father, "But I do now."

William smiled, but it was old and tired and had more than a little pain in it. "I did love your mother," he said softly. "I thank the Lords that I had her for even a brief time. Partly because she gave me you and Zak, of course, but also because she was the most loving person I've ever known. She deserved a hell of a lot better than me."

Lee was silent for a long moment. "That's how I feel about Kara," he said in a quiet voice. "I still feel like I'm not quite good enough. God, I'm so afraid I'll screw this up and wind up without her, even as a friend. I don't know how to live without her."

"I pray you never have to," William said, and then had to clear his throat. It was as though he was hearing his own fears from when he'd been Lee's age. It amazed him that despite their differences, and the significant differences between Kara and Iilya, a man's doubts and insecurities were pretty much standard. In its own way, the thought was reassuring.

"Do you remember when we were about nine or so?" Lee asked. "When you were stuck on planet for about a year, and you had to run freighters for the fleet?"

"I remember," William said with a grimace. "Someday I'll tell you the story behind that assignment, but neither of us is old enough or drunk enough to discuss it now."

Lee laughed. "I can imagine. But it was good in one way at least. You used to take the three of us up on those flights every once in a while."

William nodded. "It made the trips less tedious," he admitted. "I hated flights that didn't leave the ionosphere."

"Kara was talking about that first flight," Lee told his father. "I'd forgotten how much she loved it. From that first time she was in the air, she knew she wanted to fly. I don't know how I managed to forget that over the years, but she had to remind me."

"You were the same way," William remembered fondly. "More at home in a freighter than on the ground. So long as you were in the air, you were happy."

"Zak used to throw up for hours after those flights," Lee admitted with a wry smile. "He wouldn't admit it was the flight, but it was pretty consistent so I figured it out."

"Your mother told me," William said. "But I couldn't leave him behind. He begged to go just the same way you and Kara did. I really believed that he'd develop the stomach for it if he had the time."

"He did. It took years, but he finally did. Either that or he learned to hide it better, and I don't think that was it. He never could lie worth a damn."

"No, he never could," William agreed softly.

They sat in silence for several minutes, until Lee met his father's gaze with a grin. "You know, I didn't plan for this to get serious. I really just came by to be sure that you were okay with Kara and I as a couple."

William shrugged one shoulder. "I don't mind remembering," he explained. "Not all of the memories are good, but so many of them are. It's worth sorting through the sad parts to find the beauty."

"Kara still has the picture you gave her," Lee said softly. "It's in her locker. You remember? The one of her and Zak at the academy, with me next to them."

"I remember. It was one of my favorites, but she needed it more than I did. She was so afraid that she'd forget him. I knew better, of course, but fears are rarely rational. It was easier to give her a solution than to try to reason with her."

"He was really happy then," Lee said.

"Yes, he was. Whatever his reasons for wanting to fly, and whether or not it was what he was meant to do, he did love being there with you and Kara." William met his son's eyes and held his gaze. "He died happy, Lee. If nothing else, we have that. It isn't much, but it has to be enough."

Lee nodded silently. Again, they sat in silence for a long while. William just enjoyed his son's presence, undemanding and relaxed. It had been so very long since they'd just talked. They did so occasionally, but between duties and habit, they rarely took time for serious discussions or family remembrances. 

"I need a favor," Lee said quietly.

"Name it," William answered. Lee wouldn't ask if it weren't important.

"I talked to Doctor Salik about contraception," he admitted with a slight blush. "Apparently it's not very easy to come by, and he needs command approval to authorize it."

"In a society where reproduction is our only hope for survival, preventing births is counterproductive," William explained.

Lee nodded his understanding. "Viper pilots are few and far between," Lee said. "Kara's not ready to be grounded. It's not a risk I want to take, because I know what losing her wings would do to her. If you could help with the paperwork I know it's a lot to ask."

"Grandchildren would be nice someday," William said with a thoughtful smile. "But right now survival of our fleet is more important than a baby with your eyes and her smile. I'll take care of it."

Lee let out a grateful breath. "Thank you."

William just nodded.

"I've taken up most of your morning," Lee finally said, his voice both reluctant and apologetic. "I hope you aren't on an early watch."

"It wouldn't matter," he told his son simply. "This was more important."

Lee nodded again. "We need to do this more," he suggested. "Maybe over dinner or something. I know Kara would love to get together."

"I'd enjoy that, too. Check our schedules, and let's see if we can find a time when we're all off. I haven't had a family dinner in"

"Forever?" Lee suggested.

"Yes."

Lee stood, his expression still reluctant. "I need to get back," he explained. "And you need to get some sleep. Thanks for the Just, thanks."

William stood and took a step towards his son, meeting him in a hug that had become less awkward over the last few years. "You're always welcome," he told him. "Day or night. You don't need a reason."

As Lee pulled away, he just smiled. The thanks was there again, but this time in his eyes rather than in words. To William, it meant just as much.

"And Lee?"

"Yeah?"

Adama smiled at his eldest son, proud beyond words. "You do have my blessing."

The memory of Lee's smile at those words stayed with William for a very long time after his son's departure. And for a change, sleep came just a little easier than it usually did.


	14. Adjustments

Chapter 14

Lee walked quickly down the stairs to the hangar bay. He wasn't frantic — not yet — but he was getting a little concerned. Kara wasn't in their room, wasn't at Life Station, wasn't on CIC, and wasn't in Sharon's quarters. When he hadn't found her in the ready room either, this had been the only other place he could think of to look. She had come to look at the planes more than once in the past, telling him that this was simply where she belonged. He hadn't really understood it, but he hadn't ever argued with her about it.

It wasn't that he was really worried. Not exactly. She wasn't confined to quarters or anything, but he'd become very used to knowing where she was. As childish as it sounded, he liked knowing where she was. He decided that he'd better be sure she didn't find out about it; she was notorious for exploiting weaknesses. He'd never hear the end of that one.

Lee looked around the cavernous hangar, wondering if he could find her even if she was there. As always, the noise and motion around him was a carefully choreographed form of chaos. It amazed him that so much could be done at one time, in one place, and still manage to get done so well.

Knowing Kara as he did, he started out near the Vipers. It was the most logical place to begin. He felt a rush of relief when his search of the bay turned out to be both short and simple. He found her sitting on the deck, tucked back against one of the hangar walls just behind the Viper that had nearly killed her. It was now repaired, it's supports well inspected and solid. The bird was ready for flight. Kara sat with her knees drawn up and her chin resting on them as her arms encircled her legs. She looked very much like a lost child.

"Hey," he called to her once he was close enough to do so.

She looked up at him, but she didn't speak. He couldn't blame her. This place couldn't hold any good memories for her now.

"You okay?" he asked softly as he sat down next to her.

"I will be," she replied. "I just needed to see it. That probably sounds stupid."

"Under the circumstances, I'd say it sounds reasonable," he allowed. "I actually wondered how long it would take you to get back here. I was betting on a while longer, though. I should have known better."

She gave him half a smile, and then her eyes went back to the Viper. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" Kara murmured softly.

"Most of the time," Lee answered. "I wasn't real fond of her the other day."

Kara's smile wavered. "I've never been afraid of Vipers," she told him. "Even in training, for my first solo flight I was just wired. I wanted to be in there so much that it almost hurt. When I hit open space for the first time, the rush was unbelievable. It was almost like it knew what I was thinking. That was a Mach V of course, but they aren't so different. A part of me always figured that she would protect me."

"Maybe that's why you're so good," he suggested thoughtfullly. "Because you don't have any fear. God knows most trainees are so paranoid that they shouldn't come out of a simulator for the first year. You were a natural though, so it makes sense that you wouldn't be afraid of flying, or the machine that helps you do it."

"And now?" she asked, putting her cheek down on her knees to look sideways at him. "Lee, I couldn't tuck up underneath her and check an oil line if my life depended on it," she admitted.

"It hasn't even been a week, Kara. Give yourself some time. Salik won't have you back on full duty for at least a week or more. And I won't put you on maintenance until you're ready. Even then, I'm sure Tyrol can keep you busy without sticking you under a Viper."

"You can't do that," she argued, but her voice was cautious rather than accusatory. "All the pilots pull their weight. If we fly it, we have to fix it. That's the rule. You start making exceptions to that, and the whole system falls apart."

"You don't think this calls for an exception?"

She shook her head. "Lee, we're going to be under a microscope as it is. You're CAG, and I'm lead pilot. Do you really think there aren't those that are going to think that my position is connected with us sharing a room? Up until now it hasn't been much of an issue because nothing was happening, but now that something is I don't think it's a good time to start playing favorites, however good your intentions are."

"First of all, it's not playing favorites. I'd offer that to anyone who'd been hurt in an accident. After the Raptor fire, I didn't make Hawk or Sharon go back in until they were ready. That's just common sense. We have enough pilots that we don't have to torture people. Besides, everyone already thinks something's going on with us, no matter how many times we've denied it," Lee argued. "We're old news. Just because we aren't making out in the launch tubes, you can't think that the speculation hasn't been rampant. The truth is, most of it has actually died off in the last few months. Once you moved in, everyone figured that they had us pegged, so it got bad for a while. But, I don't even think we're a topic of current gossip."

"If you start coddling me, we will be," Kara told him. "Besides, I can't ask my pilots to do anything that I'm not willing to do. I'll get over it."

Lee reached over and put his arm around her shoulders. He halfway thought she'd shrug it off, but he couldn't help himself. She looked so miserable sitting there, and he didn't have any easy answers for her. He didn't have much of anything beyond the best of intentions and his own silent fears.

She didn't move away. In fact, he could feel her leaning against him and her gentle sigh was both felt and heard. Her body relaxed slightly, releasing muscles that had been tightly held against what must have been horrendous memories. If this place could make him sick to his stomach, he could only imagine what it looked like though Kara's eyes.

He felt her body shudder slightly, and he tightened his hold. He didn't think she'd come apart here, but he couldn't be sure. He just wanted to protect her from both the fear and the responsibility, but she had reminded him that he couldn't. The reason wasn't what she'd proposed, though. He didn't give a shit what people thought of him or his assignments. Kara had proved her worth as lead pilot on dozens of occasions, and there was documentation to support her appointment to the position. Rightfully, she should have been CAG, but she didn't have the rank for it.

But there was still a valid reason not to protect her. He couldn't do this for her. Taking away the situation wouldn't take away the memories or the fear. Just as his own stomach tightened when he looked at the twenty tons of metal that could have crushed the most important person in his life, so she also had to deal with her reactions to what had happened. It might not be easy, but protecting her would only make it worse for her when she did begin to deal with it. Traumas like she had endured didn't go away. They were either managed, or they festered and poisoned the person who had already been through too much. He had tried protecting her from herself in the past, and it hadn't worked out well. She was a woman of strong emotion, and what she didn't confront was enough to tear her apart if given the opportunity.

It was a helpless feeling for Lee, and one he hadn't experienced in a long while. He'd been through frightening situations with Kara before, but always he had done so as her friend. He had loved her always, but the intense desire to protect her was rather new. He was sure it came from the realization that she was indeed mortal. They both were. It surprised him that he needed to relearn this lesson. After all, they had all received a crash coarse in mortality at the beginning of the war. No one was safe, and no one was immune to the dangers of space.

"Thanks," she finally said as she pulled away. Lee let her go because he needed to, but he didn't like it. He loved having her in his arms. She had felt good snuggled in next to him in the relative quiet of this section of the hangar. She didn't lean on anyone very often, and it touched him in a way he didn't really understand that she felt safe leaning on him.

"Anytime," he told her. "I didn't do anything, anyway."

"You listened," she told him. "And you had sense enough not to argue with me. That's something."

Lee smiled at that. "Don't get used to it," he told her with a wink.

Her soft laugh caught him off guard, especially given the serious nature of his most recent thoughts. Taking a chance, he leaned sideways and kissed her softly. To his surprise, she didn't retreat, nor did she put her arms around him, but instead she stayed somewhere in between. It felt rather like a reluctant acceptance. It wasn't nearly good enough.

He had been sitting beside her, but now he turned towards her and stretched out his legs, sticking them beneath hers to break the grip she had on them. He used one hand to pull her almost up on his lap, and the other to support her back. When he kissed her this time, there was no way she was going to remain reluctant.

She didn't. Her arms finally came around his neck and she began to kiss him back. He tried not to analyze too deeply the relief that coursed through him at her participation in the kiss. With the exception of the Life Station, he really hadn't touched her much in public. Partly that was a natural reserve regarding public demonstrations of affection that his years in the military had instilled, and the rest was uncertainty as to how Kara would take it. He hadn't been willing to take the risk. At the moment though, it all seemed irrelevant.

Someone cleared his throat. Loudly.

Kara tensed, but she didn't pull away. Lee felt the urge to do so, but he controlled it with the knowledge that they weren't doing a damn thing wrong. Neither of them was on duty, neither of them was married or otherwise attached, and neither of them was a kid. They had as much right to find a few moments together as anyone else in the fleet.

Reminding himself of that, Lee gently ended the kiss and then turned his attention to the voice that had disturbed him. He was almost grateful to see who it was. At least if they had to be caught, Lee had the reassurance of knowing that he'd caught this man a few times in a clinch himself, so it wasn't likely that he or Kara would wind up on someone's report. 

"Chief," he acknowledged. "Did you need something?"

Chief Tyrol's cheeks were a lot pinker than usual as he cleared his throat again. Lee didn't dare turn his gaze to Kara. Lords knew what she was thinking. "Yes, Sir," the Chief said politely. "We have a team coming back in about five minutes, and this is one of the Vipers that we're going to be checking for preflight right after that. I thought you might want to be aware of how crowded this bay is going to be then."

Lee couldn't hold back a smile. "Point taken," he told the Chief. "Thanks for the heads-up."

Tyrol gave him a wink and finally a smile. "It's nothing you haven't done for me," he said in a wry tone. "Just returning the favor."

As the man walked away, Lee felt a solid connection of Kara's fist with his ribs. It didn't really hurt, but it wasn't comfortable. "Hey," he told her in mock indignation. "No fair when I can't hit back."

"Did you have to" Her voice trailed of as she gestured meaninglessly with her hand. "Now he thinks"

"Your point?" Lee asked calmly. His smile was gone, and he was holding his breath for her answer. It was easy to say that opinions didn't matter, but it was harder to hold onto that when the woman in your arms was acting like you'd committed a crime. Still, she hadn't moved from his lap and her arms were still around him, so he had some hope.

"I don't have one," she grumbled, ducking her head down and hiding her face against his neck. "But I don't plan to be a floor show. Let's get out of here."

He couldn't help but smile at that, releasing her gently and standing so that he could help her up. She winced on the way, locking her forearm to his in order to pull herself up, but she was definitely moving more easily than she had the day before. He took a position just behind her as they left the bay, really liking the view it gave him of her duty pants taught over her buttocks as she climbed the stairs up out of the hangar.

"Did you eat yet?" he asked from behind her once they were both up into the Galactica's main corridor. That had actually been why he'd gone looking for her in the first place. He'd simply wanted to go to lunch with a friend.

"Not yet," she admitted. "Is it a food day?"

He stepped up beside her with a smile. "You don't know?" Every other day on board the Galactica involved synthetic nutritional substitutes, which made the days where actual food was present fairly significant. He knew she hadn't been eating much, but he didn't realize it was little enough that she didn't know if they were serving or not.

She gave him a shrug with one shoulder. "I lost track," she admitted sheepishly. "I've pretty much stayed with the protein drinks when I was hungry. It seemed easier, and I didn't have to sit around in the dining hall to eat that way."

"Avoiding people?"

She shook her head. "Not exactly," she explained. "But it gets old when every time you go out you have fifteen people asking if you're feeling okay. I think it's nice of them, and it's great to have so many people that care, but even if you start out feeling fine, by the time you're done you aren't sure. Besides, the drinks have been easier on my stomach."

"Having problems," he asked in concern.

"Not really, but I thought I might. Even breathing hurt at first, so I didn't think big meals were a good idea."

He brought himself back on track, still trying to decide what to do with the information. "Yeah, it's a food day," he told her. "I thought we might grab some lunch together."

She looked at him sideways and flashed a grin. "Regular table, right?" she asked with a wink.

"Yes," he admitted, fighting the smile that came instinctively in response to hers. "The alcoves are booked for the next month."

"What?"

"Well, our little date started something," he told her. "They cleared out all of the alcoves at the back of the hall, and stuck in little tables. It's self-service, but at least it gives folks a little bit of privacy and a place to get together. I think they have nine of them cleared out now, and they're really popular. Who would have thought?"

"Leave it to you to start a trend," she told him with a smirk.

"Yeah, well it seemed like a good idea at the time," he told her with a sheepish duck of his head.

"It was actually really sweet," she admitted as he ushered her into the officers' dining hall. "Did I ever thank you for it?"

"Not that I remember," he said after some consideration. "But I might have forgotten. It's been a rough week."

"I'll rough week you," she muttered. He half expected her to punch him, but she went with something less painful and more effective, placing a hand on each of his sides and tickling with little mercy. It would have been a lot funnier to him if they hadn't been nearly up to the serving line. He grabbed her hands, moving them down from ticklish sides, and secured them tightly in one of his hands.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked, trying to divert her attention.

She raised her eyebrows and gave him a wide grin. God, she was making him insane. 

"Food," he told her. "Now. Pick something."

Laughing softly she turned around and made a couple of selections from the line. It didn't look like much to him, but he didn't say anything. He made several selections for himself, grabbed each of them a glass of milk from the end of the line, and then followed her to an empty end of one of the large tables. It was relatively early, so the room was still quiet and there was no one too close to where she chose to sit.

But after only a few minutes he realized that she was doing a lot more pushing the food around her plate than actually eating it. He didn't say anything at first, grateful that she was at least drinking the milk, but it was starting to worry him.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked. He was trying not to sound like the typical overprotective boyfriend, but she did have him concerned.

"Want me to grab you one of the drinks?" he finally asked a moment later when she still hadn't taken more than a single bite.

She looked uncertain. He knew that look. She wanted to say yes, but didn't want to be a bother. It amazed him that she was still so ridiculously independent when she had friends right and left that would have loved to have help her.

"I'll be right back," he told her with a small smile. She smiled back, and he knew he'd guessed right.

It didn't take him long to get the drink. Made from the same synthetic nutritional substances as the food substitutes, the protein drinks were essentially perfect nutrition. Perfect that was, except for taste. Well, that and they weren't particularly filling. Lee had been known to drink three or four and still want something to eat. It was one of the reasons he'd always stayed away from them. Kara, on the other hand, had always liked them because they didn't require her to slow down to manage a meal. She was always on the go.

When he went back towards the table, he wasn't surprised to see that a few friends had joined her. Sharon was there with a full plate, and a couple of the girls from CIC as well. For just a moment he wondered if he'd even be welcome at the decidedly female table, but if he and Kara were going to be a couple they might as well start how. He hoped.

"Hey," he said in greeting as he resumed his place at the table and handed Kara the glass. She smiled her thanks, but didn't say anything. She looked a little odd. "What did I miss?"

Sharon just grinned. "We were just checking up on Starbuck," Sharon explained. "We'll get out of your hair now."

"You don't need to leave," Lee told them as he picked up his fork and prepared to take a bite. Lords, this was uncomfortable. For years he'd been assuring everyone that nothing was going on between him and Kara, and now he might as well have lied to them. "I won't listen," he told Sharon earnestly, adding a wink for emphasis.

Sharon just smiled widely and patted Kara gently on the shoulder as she said good-bye. The other women followed suit, and soon he was sitting alone with Kara once again. 

"Sorry," he told her. "Didn't mean to run them off."

Kara smiled back. "Don't apologize," she said. "I'm grateful. You saved me about an hour of quizzing by showing up."

"Quizzing?"

Kara shook her head, and he cold see that she wasn't sure how to explain. "Lee, I've been really careful over the years to treat everyone pretty much equal — male or female, pilot or deck crew, whatever. I blew that policy out of the water when you came aboard, because you just weren't like everyone else. Understand?"

"I think so," he said, then after a moment more he wasn't sure. "Okay, not really. You've always been closer to me than anyone else. Why is it uncomfortable now."

She shook her head, and her cheeks got really pink. Blushing? What did she have to blush about?

"Kara?"

She took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "Lee, you've been a topic of discussion for three years," she told him point blank. "You're single, gorgeous, and you don't let anyone in. Not really. You've been the object of more than a few female fantasies ever since you came aboard."

And he had no clue what to say to that, so he just sat there with his mouth hanging open while she took another drink of her lunch.

"It didn't really bug me," she continued. "I mean, let them wonder. If they wanted to use you for eye-candy, I really didn't care. Then. But the same jokes don't sound the same anymore, and after joking around with them for three years it seems almost hypocritical of me to change on them. But"

"But?" he asked, but he was getting an idea.

"But it's not a joke anymore," she said with a shrug. "It's one thing when they're speculating about a friend, but now when we're" Her voice trailed off, and she took another large drink. "It's just different, that's all. How am I supposed to look at you with a straight face when they're busy discussing what you look like without the uniform."

Okay. That was entirely too much information. And what was more, he couldn't really relate to it. The guys had never said anything about Kara in his presence, because even if they hadn't been romantically involved, they knew that Lee was fairly protective of her. He had never gone in for the raunchy jokes that most of the pilots seemed to like. Even back in the academy, he'd been far removed from the adolescent joking and screwing around. He had been serious, straightforward, and everyone just seemed to know it. The same was true on the Galactica.

But Kara had always been one of the group. She was a magnet to those around her, always full of fun, jokes, and life. She got along with almost everyone, or she really didn't, but very few people were indifferent to her. She just wasn't the type of personality that people ignored. Thankfully, most people enjoyed her dry wit and course sense of humor. She had a lot of friends.

"You could just tell them it isn't funny," he suggested.

"But doesn't it aren't you bothered that your anatomy is up for discussion?"

He shrugged a shoulder and shook his head. "Kara, people have been talking behind my back since I was ten years old. I've never been on the inside, and that's okay. I'm used to it. What they talk about, whether it's what I look like or who I'm sleeping with it just doesn't matter. I'm sure they also speculate on most of the other command personnel, or anyone else who isn't in their little cliques. I learned not to listen a long time ago. If they think I'm an asshole, I can't do much to change it, so why let it get to me?"

She just looked at him, her expression unreadable. He took a few more bites of his lunch, which wasn't as good as it usually was, and then asked, "Kara, if it doesn't bother me, then why should it bother you?"

She looked at him a moment longer, and a small smile broke through. Still, she didn't answer.

"Well," he prompted.

"Maybe it bothers me because you aren't community property anymore," she admitted. "You're mine."

She wasn't meeting his eyes, instead staring at her nearly untouched plate and fingering the glass she had emptied. What could he say to that? "Do they know that?"

She gave a self-derisive laugh. "I've been denying it for three years," she admitted. "Probably not."

"So tell them," he suggested.

She looked up and met his eyes, her expression odd but not unpleasant. "That wouldn't bother you?" she asked softly.

Lee thought about it for a moment. He'd done everything he could to make it common knowledge that there'd been a change in his relationship with Kara. He'd made a fool of himself by disobeying orders in the hangar, he'd practically moved into her room at Life Station, and he was with her almost every waking moment now. What more did the woman need to realize that he wasn't ashamed of her. He had nothing to be ashamed of. First of all, the only changes in their relationship had really been emotional; there hadn't been opportunity for more.

So maybe everyone didn't know. Maybe the hints he'd thought were obvious had been more subtle than he'd expected. He hadn't been hiding anything, and didn't want her to have that impression, but he'd just been respecting what he thought she'd want.

"You can tell them whatever you want," he said carefully. "Or, if you prefer, we can just show them." With those words, he stood up and reached across the table to kiss her. It wasn't gentle, it wasn't polite, and it didn't leave a lot to the imagination.

He half expected her to withdraw. He wasn't really trying to embarrass her, but rather to make a point. He didn't care if the world knew about the progression of their relationship. He hadn't made an issue out of it, because the transition had been natural to him. It wasn't that he was ashamed, or that he was trying to hide anything. It wasn't that at all.

After a few seconds, Kara got the message. Her eyes closed, she kissed him back, and for just a moment the people in the dining hall didn't exist. He just kissed her, and she kissed him, and to hell with finishing lunch or getting caught for PDA or any other damn thing. She was his — for better or worse — and he wasn't leaving it to anyone's speculations.

Moments later, a sound penetrated the bubble he'd imagined around them. Once more there was light, and a dining hall, and a hell of a lot of people. As soon as he released the kiss, Kara tucked her face against his neck and blushed brightly, while he tried to keep his balance with the table between them. It would have been a lousy time to fall Every eye in that hall was on them, and half the dining hall was in the process of giving them a standing ovation. 


	15. Legitimate Concerns

Chapter 15

She was going to go insane.

There was no way around it. She was going flat, frakking, insane.

Kara stepped out of the chilly shower and grabbed a towel. Bending had become easier in the last couple of days, but it still wasn't fun. She did it anyway, drying off legs that were still bruised at the upper thigh, a chest that remained black and blue with a profusion of yellow and green thrown in, and arms that were covered in tiny bumps from the cold.

It had been a full week since the accident, and medical clearance or not she was going running. She'd waited until this morning, when Lee was finally back on the day watch and out of her way, to dig through her locker for a pair of sweat pants. She pulled them on once she had herself dry, added a larger tank top than she usually wore to cover the bruising that had crept to her shoulders as it healed, and then carefully bent down to pull on socks and running shoes.

Just getting dressed had hurt, but if she didn't get out of this room she was going to go nuts. She was a runner to the marrow of her bones, and needed the adrenaline rush from her daily run the same way she needed it from flying. Without her morning fix, her body was starting to give her unmistakable signs of withdrawal. She was keeping a constant headache, she couldn't concentrate on anything, and inactivity in general had her climbing the walls. This wasn't a matter of simple conditioning or health any longer; her sanity was in question.

She did take the time to stretch before leaving the room, using the bed and walls as props, and making sure that every muscle was as limber as she was going to manage it. Still, the one thing she had discovered in the last week was that shying away from pain only made it last longer. She bent past the limits of comfort, stretched beyond what really felt good, and within a few minutes she was as ready as she was going to be.

She was already braced for the arguments that she knew would come from just about everyone if she was willing to slow down and listen to them. Her accident was common knowledge on the ship, because so many had been involved in the cleanup that had followed. People she had never met were asking her how she was at mealtimes, and those that knew her were being so sweet and accommodating that she wanted to hit someone. She wasn't an invalid, and she was tired of being treated as one. Her check-up that morning had shown nothing more than some healing bruises. There was absolutely no reason beyond simple soreness that she couldn't do this. She hadn't asked Salik of course, because she hadn't wanted to take a chance that he might say no. And she still didn't feel much like eating, but she thought that might be as much her inactivity as the injuries. She wasn't burning fuel, so she didn't need it.

Realizing that she hadn't run in a week, and that a lot had happened to her body in that week, she started out at a light jog. Thankfully, the jolting wasn't too terribly bad as she ran along the even corridors of the Galactica. She got more than a few curious glances, but she tried to attribute that to the later hour she was running at. She hadn't tried it earlier because she'd been fairly sure Lee wouldn't allow it. He was almost overprotective enough lately to be smothering, but she loved him for it. She loved him period, even after the stunt he'd pulled the day before in the dining hall.

The stairs weren't fun. Bouncing up was painful, but jogging back down on the other side of the ship was enough to make her lose her breath and wonder if running had been such a good idea. By the time she made it around to go back up, she was feeling better. She took the second circuit of the ship a little faster than the first, and her bouncing eased up as she stretched out her legs from a jog to a true run. The second trip down the stairs still hurt, but not as bad as the first. By her fourth circuit, she actually felt pretty good. Her breathing was deep, but it wasn't hurting her. She was sweating like crazy, but she was used to that. And for the first time in a week she didn't feel like she was about to come apart at the seams.

She completed six circuits of the Galactica's hallways - roughly three miles, give or take the extra distance of dodging a few people along the way - and then slowed to a walk. She was feeling really good by the time she made it back to Lee's room for a shower. She supposed she should be thinking of it as "their" room by now, as she'd finally moved the last of her things from pilots' quarters the day before, but it was still his office so the habit was hard to break.

Once in the room she headed straight for the shower. It was the first one she had felt like she'd really needed since she'd been hurt the week before. She scrubbed her hair and body, actually enjoying the cool water. She was incredibly proud of herself and ready for a good day as she stepped out of the shower and grabbed Lee's towel because it was drier than hers. She dried herself off quickly, combed her hair out of her eyes, and then wrapped the towel around her out of habit.

A moment later she was more than grateful for that habit as she came face to face with her very furious CAG.

"Good morning," she said brightly, only partly to try to get the angry expression off his face. The rest was that she just felt good. Adrenaline was good for knocking out aches and pains, and at the moment she felt like she'd taken a decent painkiller. "Aren't you supposed to be at work."

Lee stood there, hands on his hips, and his face nearly as red as hers was after a three mile run. "What in hell do you think you're doing?" he asked. His tone was madder than his expression, if that was even possible.

"I think I'm getting dressed," she told him casually. "It's what I usually do after a shower."

"You know what I mean," he told her with a glare.

Kara decided that innocence was her best option. She was in far too good a mood at the moment to want to fight, and that was saying something. "Nope," she answered simply, and almost winced. She'd never been good at doing innocent.

"Kara, stop acting stupid. You know you shouldn't be running."

"Oh," she said in mock surprise. "You should have asked what I'd been doing, instead of what I am doing. There's a difference." A good mood was one thing, but he was testing it. "Because what I am doing is dressing, so you'd better turn around."

"Kara, you are not getting out of this discussion!"

"I'm cold," she told him with a glare and the beginnings of annoyance. He wasn't her keeper. "Turn your back or don't, but I'm getting dressed."

He didn't turn. Instead, he stood there at a full glare. She decided she didn't care, turned her back on him, and dropped the towel. She had her underpants on and was doing her best to untangle an undershirt when she felt his hand on her shoulder. She jumped at least two feet. One unspoken understanding they'd always had was privacy to change clothes. She had really expected him to watch, much less touch.

Ignoring that warm hand on her shoulder wasn't an easy thing as she did her best to get the two shirts straightened out. She set her jaw and ignored the heat that came from Lee and had always fascinated her. By the time she had it nearly done, his other hand had reached out to still her fumbling hands.

He stood behind her, close enough that she could feel his flight suit and the heat of his body besides. She felt the lightest kiss on her bare shoulder, and then his arms slipped around her in a gentle hug. If she'd known that simply stripping would calm his temper this quickly, then she might have tried it years before.

"I worry," he said softly, directly next to her ear. His breath there was doing something funny to her stomach that she wasn't sure she liked. "I'm allowed."

"I'm a big girl," she reminded him. "I can take care of myself." His lips were at her neck again, not kissing but just there. It was making her nervous.

"I had three different people come to me in CIC to tell me how much better you must be feeling," he told her in that same quiet, breathy voice. Goose bumps popped up on her arms, but it wasn't from the cold. She was most definitely not cold. "Then Lieutenant Gaeta mentioned that you were running without me. I thought it must be a mistake, but sure enough, half of CIC had seen you on their way in."

"Lee, I'm fine," she told him again. "I'd tell you if I wasn't."

"Would you?" he asked at a whisper. Kara decided that it should be illegal for anyone to use a voice that soft, that close, that wonderful.

"Lee, I need to put my shirt on," she told him in a shaky voice. She was feeling very naked at the moment, and only part of it had to do with her shirt. Times like this she felt stripped before him of far more than clothing, and she wished she could decide whether it bothered her or not.

"Probably," he agreed, and then he was nibbling gently on her neck and she stopped thinking altogether. By the time he turned her around and joined his lips with hers, being cold or angry or anything else was completely not an issue. As his arms tightened around her body, his hands caressing her bare sides, all she could do was hold on tight and resent the front zippers to flight suits. To get past his, she'd have to loosen her arms, and she didn't think she was capable of that, but it seemed entirely unfair that she couldn't return the favor.

She lost track of how long he kissed her, just enjoying the feeling of him wrapped around her mostly nude body. Her legs went rubbery, her heart took off a lot faster than it had during her run, and she began to wonder if anything could ever feel better than this. Then she got her answer. His hands slipped around to the front, ending the hug but introducing her to an entirely different level of pleasure. When he broke off the kiss a few moments later and wrapped his arms back around her tightly, it took her quite some time to get her breathing regulated. 

He didn't loosen his hold, nor did his breathing slow back to normal by the time that hers had. "Are you okay?" she finally asked, rather pleased by the turn of events.

"Not really," he admitted. "No."

She waited for him to elaborate, but he neither released his hold on her nor spoke. He just held her, his face tucked into her neck, and said nothing. She kept expecting him to end the embrace, or at least to explain what he was thinking. Hell, she would have even settled for his bawling her out for running in the first place, but even that didn't happen. It wasn't that she wasn't comfortable, but rather that she was. Physically, she was almost too comfortable.

"Lee?" she prompted several moments later.

"Hmm?"

"You awake?" she asked with an attempt at levity. There was something very intense about the moment they were sharing, and had nothing to do with where his hands had been. That she could handle, but this silence was unsettling.

"Just enjoying," he finally admitted. "I came in here ready to hell, I don't even know. But I wasn't expecting this."

"You think I was?" she asked wryly.

"I don't think anyone could expect this," he admitted, but his voice was less strained than it had been.

"Lee, close your eyes," she requested.

"Why?"

"Just do it," she said in exasperation. "Now."

"They're closed," he told her.

Taking him at his word, she ducked down out of his hold and retrieved the shirts that had been dropped and forgotten quite some time ago. She slipped the first one on, not caring if it was backwards or inside out, and then tugged the darker one over it. "Okay," she told him. "You can open them now."

He did so, and if what she saw there wasn't disappointment, then she didn't know him as well as she thought. "Thanks," he said, but he didn't sound like he meant it.

"Now, start yelling."

He smiled at that. "What?"

"Yell," she said again. "You were yelling before, so you can yell now. Come on, scream. Go for it."

That brought a gentle chuckle. "I'm not going to yell," he finally admitted. "But I'll try to discuss."

"Hallelujah," she muttered as she took a seat on the edge of the bed. Lee followed suit and seated himself next to her, taking one of her hands in his. Again, he was silent. It was starting to grate on her nerves. "Lee, what's the matter? I know you're upset that I went running. Fine. I'm okay with that, because I feel better now that I've done it. I'm less sore, not more. Okay, I probably should have had Salik sign you a note or something, but at some point I am responsible for my own actions."

"Point taken," he conceded. "See, I don't have to yell."

"But you were yelling when you came in," she argued. "Why?"

He stood up and walked to the door, then turned and walked back again. The entire length of the room was only eight feet or so, and pacing was rather ridiculous. He knew it. "I don't know," he finally said. "I wish to hell I did."

Kara smiled as she leaned back and wound up lying on the bed from the waist up, her feet still on the floor. "I think that kiss fried your brain," she remarked.

"No shit."

"Which is something else we need to talk about," she added in a little more serious tone. "That could have very easily gotten out of hand."

"I think it was," he agreed, and his tone was a long way from serious.

"You know what I mean," she argued. "We need to do something about contraception, otherwise one of these times we're going to get in too far and wind up with some consequences. She debated the wisdom of her next words, and decided that if he couldn't handle the honesty then she needed to know it now. "It's happened before," she told him quietly. "My first time wasn't planned."

"So you said," he murmured. 

"So we need to do something about this situation. Before we wind up with consequences we aren't ready for."

"I already did," he told her gently. "I've cleared it with my dad. Just ask Salik and he'll set you up."

"You talked to your dad?" she asked. Her smile was gone, along with all possibility of taking this conversation lightly. Suddenly, her concerns that Lee would be offended by a reference to Zak was rendered irrelevent.

He nodded. "He agreed, too. You're too valuable as a pilot to risk, so it's justified." He shrugged one shoulder before adding, "And convenient."

Kara would have felt just fine if she could have died right then and there. "But your father?" she asked a little desperately.

Lee shot her a disgusted look. "It was either him or Tigh. Birth control is a command directive now. Would you have preferred we made an appointment with the Colonel."

"Oh, God," she muttered.

"Exactly. And Dad didn't have a problem with it. He wants us both happy more than he wants immediate grandkids. Can't make any promises about the long term," Lee told her with a wink. "He did say something about your hair and my eyes, so he may push us in that direction sooner than we think."

William Adama was one of the men she respected above all others in the world. Somehow discussing her sex life with him was right up there with cussing him out, or flashing him. It simply wasn't done. And that thought brought her back around to Lee's response to her dressing. "That's another thing," she muttered. "Is this going to happen all the time?"

Lee looked baffled. "What?"

"Me without clothes causing your brain to shut down," she clarified with a glare. Why couldn't he keep up?

"That I can't answer," he told her as he finally stopped walking to lean against their lockers and look at her with a wicked grin. "But it's damn likely."

Her cheeks heated, and she couldn't help but feel warm inside. Having him find her attractive wasn't a bad thing. In fact, she was enjoying it. She'd never considered herself pretty — at least not in the classic sense. She had short hair, didn't bother with makeup, and she was neither incredibly tall nor incredibly slender. Her breasts weren't large, and her body wasn't particularly curvy. All of those seemed to be requisite for being considered beautiful.

Lee just smiled at her discomfort. "Do you honestly think you could just stand there, if I was the one who stripped?"

"She thought about it for a moment, then echoed his words. "Not damned likely."

"Exactly," he told her with a smile. "I look at you, and everything else goes out the window. I can't help it."

She smiled at him. "Does that include your job? You are on duty, aren't you?"

He gave her an embarrassed smile. "Yeah," he admitted. "I told Gaeta I had an errand to run. They know I hate CIC, so it wasn't a surprise. He probably figures I'm on the flight deck."

"Mm, hmm," she said as she stood up and walked towards him, placing one hand on each of his shoulders and figuratively pinning him to the lockers. "So you figured you could come and yell at me, and no one would know the difference?"

One corner of his mouth quirked. "That's pretty much it."

"Why is your first instinct to yell?"

"This from you," he said under his breath. He waited a moment, his hands coming up to play in the damp strands of hair that were nearly to her shoulders. "I was afraid you were doing too much, too fast. I almost lost you, and that scares me. I know you can take care of yourself, but part of me likes taking care of you. And before you argue, I know that's stupid. I know it. But what I know and what I feel are two different things."

"When I got you back from the planet after you got shot," she began. "I was so sure I'd lose you. If I wasn't there watching, then I didn't think you'd be there. Talk about stupid. I couldn't think about work, couldn't carry on a conversation, nothing. I just couldn't think. Even after you were better, and walking, and out of Life Station" She thought a moment before continuing. "It was like if I wasn't there, then you'd fade away. I had to be there, or you weren't." She shook her head in frustration. "That doesn't even make sense to me," she muttered. "I can't expect you to understand it."

Lee just smiled. "I do understand it," he said softly. "Most people don't get a second chance. When you lose someone, they're gone. We've both been through that, and more than once. With one another, we got lucky. I can't count the times that we've come close to losing one another, but we're both still here. I think it's hard for us to adjust to it because it's so frakking rare. It just doesn't happen, so our minds can't wrap around it."

Kara leaned forward and placed her head in the center of Lee's chest, sighing with pleasure when his arms encircled her once more. "You should be at work," she muttered. "I'd rather have you here."

"I'd rather be here," he told her. "But I do have things that need to get done if I want to be back here this evening. So from you, I need a promise."

"Promise?" she asked, but she didn't bother to lift her head.

"If you have to run, and you think you're ready, then make sure I'm with you," he asked. "If not me, then someone else. I know you think you're up to it, but if something were to happen, I'd feel better knowing you weren't alone."

"That's fair," she agreed. "Now I need one from you."

"What?"

"I need you to stop worrying," she said gently. "I love you for it, but you're going to make us both crazy. I'm out of danger, I'm doing fine, and I don't need a keeper. Can you do that?"

He removed his arms and pushed her slightly away, looking down at her as he did so. With one hand, he gently moved the shoulder of the shirt she'd put on, revealing the mottled green and yellow of healing tissue. "No," he told her quietly. "I can't stop worrying. I'm sorry. I look at this, and I think of how close I came to not" He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing. "I'll so my best not to make it such an issue, though. It isn't that I don't trust you, just that you're so precious to me"

"Close enough," she admitted, hugging him tightly. "I shouldn't ask for what you can't give."

Lee pushed her gently away from him once more and tilted her head up so that he could place a soft kiss on her lips, and then he smiled. "I'm going to miss having you waiting here for me," he admitted. "You're pretty sweet to come home to."

"I've always been here," she reminded him with a wry grin. But he wasn't having any of it.

"Not like this," he tried to explain. "Not for me."

She could only shrug. "I'm here now."

That brought a full smile. "I have to go back to work," he told her reluctantly. "And you're getting cold."

Kara rubbed her arms where little bumps had indeed formed in the cool air of the room. "You could keep me warm," she suggested with a wink.

"I plan on it," he returned. "If you get a chance, go by and see Dr. Salik. Tell him to call my dad if he needs to. He promised the paperwork would be on file. I don't know what they're using — or what's left — but at least you can find out."

Kara gave him a quirk of a grin. "Anxious?" she asked. He was fun to tease, because he was so damned obvious.

"Hell, yes," he admitted, letting one hand slide down to caress the side of her breast through the shirts. "You're pretty special under there."

She had to laugh. "Right. The tomboy next door; every boy's fantasy."

He shook his head at that. "You talk tough," he admitted. "But you're all woman in there. I've seen it: every inch. And yes, I am comparing, which isn't socially correct. But you have the most gorgeous body I've ever seen, so I don't think you'll mind being compared. And you're also just about the best person I know, whether you believe it or not, so there's a lot more to look forward to than your body."

Kara just blushed. She felt stupid doing it, and she couldn't stop it. She was absurdly grateful that if this conversation was happening, it was happening with Lee. He never said anything he didn't mean, so if he said it "Get to work, you," she finally told him with a light punch to the stomach.

"Hey," he corrected in a voice that wasn't nearly as stern as the words. "We've talked about keeping your hands to yourself until I can hit back."

"Fine," she told him as she rolled her arms, but she didn't mean it. He knew that, too. But I'm glad you can still yell at me."

You like being yelled at?" he asked in confusion. "That would explain a lot about you."

She gave in an laughed. "Maybe not, but I like that you can. I don't get away with much, and that's nice."

"Remember that the next time I ream you out," he told her with a wink. "Now get some clothes on. You're going to freeze."

"Yes, Sir," she agreed with a quick salute. She could still hear Lee's laughter a moment later, with the hatch closed and him walking away. She laughed a little bit herself, too.

(210)


	16. Routine

Chapter 16

William Adama looked around the CIC with a pride that he couldn't contain. His people were the absolute best. Once upon a time, they had been primarily rookies with the useful talent of listening to and following orders without question. Now they were simply the best. They knew their jobs as well as he did, and they did them without prompting. His crew had grown into their positions in the last couple of years, and he couldn't have been more grateful. What was more, they respected him. It was an honor to work with them. And if it was a pleasure to work with them as well, then he would just have to manage it.

Frankly, work in the last week had been nothing less than a pleasure. Things were finally settling down in the hangars as they finished the inspections and modifications that had been revealed as necessary when a Viper had fallen on one of his pilots. Lee finally had set up enough of a support staff for his command duties that he wasn't moping miserably. Kara was recovering nicely, if the several bridge crew members that he'd spoken to that morning were to be believed. And they still remained outside any area of space that they had reason to believe that the Cylons might have infected. From both a command and personal perspective, he couldn't ask for much more.

He was currently receiving a report from his XO as he relieved the officer of duty for the morning. Tigh managed most things on his own, but there were still a few matters that were deferred to the Commander. William didn't mind. He and Paul kept one another straight in a personal system of checks and balances. With no true upper echelon of command, it was the best they could manage to be sure personal opinions didn't cloud the job they had to do. At the moment, they were in one of the quieter corners of CIC; easily accessible, able to see everything, and yet not likely to be overheard.

"The scouting team has found very little on the planned route beyond a very large sun and several uninhabitable planets," Colonel Tigh was telling him, reading notes off a sheet in front of him. "It still looks like our best route, though. A couple of the planets show some potential for Tylium, so we can at least refuel. We have provisions to last through even an extended processing for a change. The agro ships are reporting that they have seed harvested that could last through the next six months, and the breeding is going well on the farming ships as well. We should have regular shipments coming in of both chicken and beef within the month."

"Excellent," William told his friend genuine enthusiasm. "The sooner we get rid of the synthetic protein, the better. I'm tired of the complaints from the crew. And from me; I miss a good steak."

"At least they're healthy enough to complain," Tigh told him with a frown. "The Portentia has reported a rather nasty virus sweeping through their crew. They've requested medical assistance. No fatalities yet, but Roslin is requesting that we send a medical team to evaluate any danger and treat as necessary."

"Do it," Adama said firmly. "Full precautions, though. We can't take the risk of it spreading, whatever it is."

"Agreed. Oh, and I have three requests pending your signature for contraception. One underage, but the other two are Colonial Fleet, and active duty."

"Who?"

"Lieutenant Caspian, from Deck Crew four. She's primarily responsible for heavy repairs, so it's probably safer to delay any childbearing until she's ready to change jobs."

"Agreed. Who else?"

Paul handed him the sheet he was reading from with no less than a smirk. William knew who was on it before he read the name. Lee had already requested the permission verbally, but the paperwork was a formality that needed to be observed. "One of our pilots," he said with a smile that he knew was far too soft to belong in CIC. "Any objections?" he asked his XO with a raised eyebrow. 

"You always did have a soft spot for her," Tigh reminded him with a wink. "But I think keeping one of our pilots in the cockpit is justified. Unless you have an immediate desire for grandchildren, that is."

"I'm not that old," William muttered as he signed the sheets that he had been given. Then, with a sigh, he held up the one he had not signed. "And neither is she. This one has to be denied. Can you be sure that we get her some counseling, and then she can resubmit when she's of age?"

Paul nodded, taking the sheets back from him. Neither of them liked denying contraception to those who were responsible enough to ask, but the bottom line was that supplies were limited, and unless there was a clear need and a benefit for the fleet, the only precaution they could recommend was abstinence. When it came to children, William had very mixed feelings. He respected a girl who would at least request protection, regardless of age. And yet he couldn't condone teen sex by allowing the injections to be given to those who were nonessential to the running of the fleet. Thankfully, the concrete policy had resulted in far fewer teen pregnancies than he had originally feared. He wasn't sure if that was due to abstinence or blind luck. He didn't care. Counseling was provided to educate the girls on alternatives to intercourse, but there was still the isolated pregnancy that William had to wonder about. He looked forward to the day when they were able to synthesize the medications more effectively and once more make conception a choice rather than a consequence.

As Paul took the papers he smiled. "You knew about Thrace, didn't you?"

"There's very little I don't know about what happens on my ship," he told his XO with a wink.

"How's she doing, anyway?"

William thought about teasing him by pretending he didn't know who the man was talking about, but decided against it. The truce between his XO and his Lead Pilot was still tentative at best, but he was taking what he could get. "Several of the crew saw her out running this morning," he said with a smile. "So I'd say she's doing well."

"I don't have anything else, then," Tigh concluded as he tidied the pile of papers that he held. "I'll drop these off at the Life Station if you like. I'll pass by there on the way to quarters regardless."

"Thank you," William said. "You'll save someone a trip."

"Enjoy your morning."

William smiled. "I'm sure I will. You know, at one time I would have been bored not to have a dozen things demanding my attention. Hell, I was even ready to retire to get away from the mundane responsibilities of peacetime command. Now"

"Now you know what you have," Paul suggested.

"Exactly."

Paul gave a last smile, one of understanding and agreement, and then turned to leave the CIC. William watched him go with the same pride that he carried for every member of his crew. Paul hadn't had a drink in years, had finally learned to balance responsibility with moderation, and had turned into the best damned XO he could have hoped for. Gradually, Paul was even gaining the respect of the crew, although it had been a long time in coming. What William had always known was there was finally showing; Paul had the heart of a commander.

William moved back towards the center of CIC and eased himself up to the command consoles. Everything was right on track. There wasn't a blip anywhere on his instruments that was out of place, and the conversation humming around him was comfortable and productive. There had been times when he wondered if he'd ever be able to enjoy command again, and it was reassuring to know that he could. For now, they were between emergencies, and he could just let the people around him do what they did best.

An uneventful day. Lords, it was good to have those again. No one had been hurt, no one had died, and no significant emergencies or accidents had befallen either his crew or the fleet in general. William Adama decided that there could be no better success in a day than for it to be uneventful.

He had just completed passing control of CIC to Colonel Kelly. Between the three of them — Adama, Tigh, and Kelly — they were able to keep a command level representative in CIC on most occasions. Every once in a while the com was left in Lieutenant Gaeta's capable hands, but they tried to keep those incidents to a minimum. It wasn't that the Lieutenant was any less efficient than his superior officers, but keeping a Colonel or above in the seat of responsibility was always the safest policy. With rank came responsibility, and it was a responsibility he didn't want to leave on the shoulders of a Lieutenant. Things went wrong — it was an eventuality of command — and when they did he wanted someone with the rank at the helm to answer for it.

The corridors of his ship were moderately crowded at the moment, with crewmen bustling to get to dinner or just back to their quarters for some rest. Shifts were thankfully shorter for most of the staff since they'd managed to train new crewman to fill essentially every position on the battlestar, but they could still be tedious.

But Adama would take a long and boring shift over one that flew by in activity. Boring was good. Boring was safe. Boring meant that he didn't have to wonder why in hell he didn't retire ten years earlier to be picked off with the rest of his planet. Boring meant that he was alive and well, and those he loved were the same. When a man got old, it was the simple things that seemed important. Boring shifts were damned simple.

"Commander."

Adama returned yet another salute on his walk back towards his quarters. He didn't really mind the tradition, but he wondered how long it would remain practical. At what point was military etiquette a simple waste of time? He thought that he must be tired if such common events were registering as conscious thoughts. He hadn't slept particularly well the night before, but that wasn't unusual. Just because the current situation was uneventful, it didn't mean that the weight of command was any less. History had taught him that peace was simply a break between crises, and he never allowed himself to relax too much.

Opening the hatch to his room, he was moderately surprised to find the lights on and someone waiting for him. "Starbuck?"

Kara turned to him with a smile. She was sitting at his desk, looking through one of his old volumes of poetry. Rightfully, the books should have been placed in the ship's library, but this particular one had been a gift years back from Iilya, and he'd never been able to part with it. "Hi."

"Everything okay?" he asked in concern. While it wasn't completely unheard of for one of his pilots to wait for him in his quarters, it wasn't by any means an average occurrence.

"Fine," she assured him. "I just wanted to talk to you for a bit. If that's okay?"

"My door's always open," he told her with a smile, and then they both laughed. It was more than an expression on the Galactica. While he — if anyone — had the right to locks on his door, he'd never felt a need for them. If anyone wished him harm, he was accessible enough on the ship that locking his quarters was ludicrous. Making himself hard to reach would only hurt those that had a need to speak with him. Further, he had no reason to be distrustful of his crew or their families, and they were the only ones with access on the Galactica. "What can I do for you?"

She gave an uncharacteristically unsure shrug. "I guess I just wanted to thank you."

"For?"

That shrug again. "For making this really easy on us," she said cryptically. She really didn't have to elaborate.

"You didn't need my permission," he reminded her as he walked over and sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Maybe not, but your approval means a lot to Lee," she told him. "And to me."

William just smiled. Approval was an understatement of his feelings. A part of him had always believed that she and Lee belonged together, and there was a certain amount of vindication in knowing that they saw the same potential that he did.

"I know you weren't exactly happy when Zak and I"

He shook his head. "I was never unhappy," he corrected. "Surprised, yes. And maybe a little worried that he was so young."

"So I was a lack of options?" she asked with a soft smile.

"You were familiar," he admitted. "And I never questioned that you were a good choice," he added with a wink. "I suppose it just concerned me that he thought you were his only choice."

"And you don't have the same concerns about Lee?"

William bent over and began to untie his boots. "You know the answer to that."

"This didn't surprise you," she said carefully. "Why do I think that you knew what was going to happen before we did?"

"I had an idea," he admitted. "The two of you have a lot in common; I've always thought that."

"You think that's enough?" Again, the uncertainty was in her voice. It bothered him.

"Do you?"

Kara pulled her feet up to the seat of the chair and wrapped her arms around her legs. How many times had he caught her in this position when she'd been worried about something as a child? "I guess I worry. He's my best friend, and my CAG. If it falls apart, things could get very uncomfortable."

"It's a risk," William agreed, moving to his other boot and beginning the struggle with its laces. "Most things in life that have any value at all involve some element of risk."

"Thanks," she said wryly.

"You have to ask yourself which is the greater risk," he continued. "Worst case scenario is that things are uncomfortable between the two of you. As many years as you've been friends, I'd say you could survive that. In the other direction, the worst possibility is that the two of you wonder about this for the rest of your lives. You wonder if it would have worked, if you could have made a life together, and if you've missed something wonderful. Which is the greater risk?"

"No contest," she admitted.

"I didn't think so," he agreed.

"Which do you think is worse?" she asked him gently. "Loving and losing, or never loving?"

He had to smile. "If you really love somebody, you can't lose it," he said. "I never stopped loving, Iilya, even during or after the divorce. I had some regrets, but they involved missing time with her and the unhappiness I caused her. But the love never faltered. I suppose we were lucky there."

"It doesn't sound like luck," she told him.

"You're right. Love is an act of will. It's not easy, at least not all the time. Some days it's more work than fun. And some days, it's the most incredible feeling you can imagine. That's when it's worth it. That's when you know it's right. The rest of the time you have to trust, and hope. I wish it were easier than that."

"I'd rather you tell me the truth than tell me it's easy," she said with a grin, but her feet were back on the floor and she wasn't looking as insecure. That made him feel better.

"It's worth it," he told her again.

"Thanks."

"So, anything else you need? Pearls of wisdom? Permission from the old man?"

She actually laughed at that. "No thanks. I guess I just wanted to be sure. I figured if anyone would be straight with me, it would be you."

"The two of you have something. Lee knows how rare you are. You understand him, and that's damned rare. Pilots are not easy to understand. There's nothing logical in wanting to fly; it's not natural. But it's so much a part of him that Well, a man needs a woman to understand that. You do. He's very lucky to have you."

"It goes both ways," she admitted. "I don't think many men would understand me either. He does."

"There you have it," he told her. "It's all you can ask for, and more than most people ever have. Enjoy it."

"For as long as it lasts?" she asked softly.

"For as long as you have," he corrected.

Reflecting on his conversation with Kara, William had to admit that he was more than a little surprised. She was a woman who normally displayed very little uncertainty, even in the most difficult of situations. He found it very telling that she was more worried about a relationship than she was an attack. If he'd had any doubts that she was taking this as seriously as his son, then their talk had set him straight.

Once she had left, he'd treated himself to a long shower and an early bedtime. For a change, sleep had come quickly and easily, and he actually felt both rested and refreshed. After waking up earlier than usual, he'd spent a few minutes with a favorite book — ironically, the one Kara had been reading the previous day — and then had decided to go down to the officer's mess for breakfast. It wasn't something he normally did, preferring to eat in CIC or in his quarters rather than doing do where his presence might make others uncomfortable, but this morning he was feeling good.

The corridors weren't so crowded as they usually were when he reported for duty. There was an unusual quiet to morning, as though something were about to happen. Just as he began to wonder just what it was that he expected, he heard an unusual sound coming to the side corridor that led to the officer's mess.

It was laughter. Not humorous laughter, but a giggling kind such as he would expect from children. It was the vague familiarity in the sound that led him to investigate, easing into the passageway quietly towards the sound.

He recognized the reason for his familiarity with the sound almost immediately. It was the voices that he had known, rather than the pitch of the laughter. A masculine chuckle was mixed with a more feminine giggle, and he knew both of the voices quite well.

Lee had Kara pinned up against a recessed hatch, his body almost hiding hers in the process. He couldn't hear his son's words, but the amusement in them was clear. Kara answered something, also undistinguishable, but very feminine.

His son was dressed in simple military workout garb, sweat pants and the regulation tank tops. He had both arms up at shoulder level, with Kara stuck firmly between him and the hatch. The laughter faded as Lee leaned forward, obscuring Kara and making any arguments about their relationships academic.

As sweet as the moment was, he decided that it would be appropriate for a father to make his presence known before someone else did so. As a Commander, he also had a mild issue with such an obvious public display of affection between two of his officers. It was something he would likely turn his back on and walk away from if the officers were anyone else, but from his CAG and Lead Pilot he didn't feel it could be ignored. In addition, he couldn't help but see the humor in the situation.

Clearing his throat, he had the pleasure of watching his son jump a good three feet back, spinning with a comical look of embarrassment on his face. Kara didn't look much better as she ran a hand across her mouth and looked very intently at the floor.

"Good morning," he finally said, doing his best to put them out of their misery.

"Good morning," Lee answered, not meeting his eyes but at least able to speak. Kara wasn't doing quite that well. William thought it was sweet the way that Lee looked back at her and then stepped between the two of them. Chivalry was not dead on the Galactica. Kara took the opportunity to bury her face in Lee's back. "You're up early," Lee commented. Making conversation clearly wasn't his intent, but rather diverting attention from the woman hiding behind him.

"So it appears," Adama agreed, but he just couldn't keep the smile off his face. "I'm on my way to breakfast. What's your excuse?"

"Running," Lee answered, and William was glad to see that Kara's head had come up and she was now peeking over his son's shoulder.

"Is that what you're calling it now?" he said with a soft laugh. 

"He tripped me," Kara admitted as she finally relaxed enough to step to the side, even able to look at him now.

"You tripped yourself," Lee argued as he looked at her sideways in mock indignation. "I kept you from falling."

"Right," she said while rolling her eyes. "Thanks a lot!"

"Well, I did," Lee argued, reaching over to punch her gently in the arm. Rather than taking offense, Kara grinned and punched him back, but at least she was smiling now.

"I'd like to suggest that you take this somewhere less public," William said, and he really wished that he could keep a straight face. The truth was, he could almost remember being that young, and so in love that he didn't care who was watching or what they had to say about it. It was something he didn't want to take away from them. Most especially he didn't want to take it from Lee, who normally didn't display much emotion at all in front of others.

"Yes, Sir," Lee replied, his face finally losing some of its humor. William was afraid he knew why, and he rushed to correct the misinterpretation.

"It's not that I mind," he assured them both. "But someone has to set an example, and I guess that's the two of you."

"That's a scary thought," Kara muttered with a sheepish grin.

"Isn't it, though," he agreed. "Have a good morning, you two."

"You too, Dad," Lee said softly, and William Adama felt something warm unfurl within him. It felt good to be called that again. Damned good.

He nodded to his son, then looked over at Kara. "What do you hear, Starbuck?" he asked, unable to resist their little tradition.

Kara's grin went ear to ear as she tucked her arm though Lee's and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Nothin' but the rain, Sir."

William laughed softly as he moved to walk past them on his way to breakfast. "Grab your gun and bring the cat in," he told her.

Lee gave her a curious look, but her gaze was on her Commander. "Boom, boom, boom," she told him with a grin.

William did his best to hide a smile as he left the young couple and walked towards the Officers' mess. He felt like he'd been doing a lot of that this morning, and yet he had no clue why he felt that he needed to hide anything. As he made another turn in the corridor, he ignored the return of laughter behind him and focused on the day. 

He wondered if Kara would bother sharing their joke with is son. It didn't matter to him either way, but he could imagine that there were some things Kara might not be ready to share. Lee just might give her a hard time if she didn't, but they would get through it. Where there was love, there was understanding. Where there was love, there was forgiveness.

In the finally analysis, that was what made life worth living in the first place. Simple love. Because where there was love, there was hope. As long as there was hope, then the human race would go on. And the race was definitely alive and well at the moment, because he knew of one place in the fleet, on the Galactica, where there was most definitely love.

*

No, this isn't the end of the story, but chapters 17 and 18 definitely go into the R category. You can find them at my web site, but I cannot post links here e-mail me at jcwimmer@aol.com if you need the site address.

Thanks for reading!

-Crys-


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